Neither Can Live
by jai-kun
Summary: Cross Posted at Harry agonizes over Ginny, the search for the Horcruxes, and the danger he presents to all he holds dear. It wouldn't be Harry Potter if he didn't act rashly...
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter's room was, abnormally, clean. The trunk he'd brought back with him from Hogwarts remained unpacked, opened only to retrieve clothing when the morning brought no evidence of his leaving number four, Privet Drive. Harry stayed mostly in his room, going downstairs only to eat. The Dursleys seemed not to care, or notice, or at least made a good show of pretending.

Harry found it odd. The previous year, when they had been warned not to treat him badly, the Dursley's had used a similar tactic, to ignore him at all times. Harry had at the beginning, been too depressed over Sirius' death; towards the end, he had been so excited by the prospect of leaving so early that he hadn't marked it as more than a passing curiosity. This time, however, he had noticed Aunt Petunia kept giving him fleeting, nervous glances, and Dudley would suddenly find a reason to be elsewhere whenever Harry was in a room. It was almost as if Harry had a Muggle repelling charm cast on him. He'd spent an hour one day walking in on Dudley purposely, amused to see him turn 180 degrees and walk away.

Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, literally ignored him. Harry had even gone as far as to steal bacon from Vernon's plate. His aunt and cousin had gaped at him, but Vernon simply went on reading his paper, the vein in his forehead just beginning to twitch.

However, Dursley-baiting was not as happy a pastime as it might have been. Whereas the beginning of the summer last year had been spent in an almost numb state, Harry's mind raced with all he'd learned this year. The cup, the locket, the snake, something from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor... The litany continued in his hindbrain, brought to the front whenever his fingers brushed against the fake horcrux he'd kept with him since the fateful events of mere weeks ago. The token of this news reminded him of his responsibility. This reminded him of all he'd give up or had given up to fulfill that responsibility.

That unfortunately, led his mind to what was becoming his greatest sacrifice, though he never let himself think of it in those terms. It was, to conscious thought, the necessity, a thing he needed to do. His friends were in danger just knowing them -- Ginny especially, though again he would never let this thought to the fore as often as it tried to be. If he didn't need Ron's skill and Hermione's brain, he'd push them away too.

Something, deep down, nagged at him when his thoughts went to his friends; something important that he just seemed to be missing. Lately, he'd begun to chase it, to try to figure it out. If it was unimportant, at least he'd get over it here while he was still waiting instead of allowing it to fester and distract him when he needed to concentrate on finding the horcruxes. So he chased this errant thought, pursued it as it eluded him, pushed away thoughts of Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys and Ginny, doggedly pursuing the thought like he pursued the snitch.

It eluded him still, almost teasing him. But now, he almost had it. He could feel the realization beginning to dawn.

A splat at the window pulled him out of his reverie, and he stood, wand raised, watching a grey shadow slide down the clear glass. A grey, feathery shadow...

"Errol?!"

Harry leapt from the bed and threw the window open, gingerly lifting Errol off the sash and bringing him to his bed. He set the owl down and pulled off the letter tied to his leg, then set him in Hedwig's empty cage. Errol opened one eye, gave a soft hoot, and closed it again, drifting to fast sleep.

He unfurled the letter only to find one line, written in neat, gently curling handwriting. The writing had been carefully done, and it brought a lump to Harry's throat.

Harry,  
Coming to get you for the wedding.  
Please be ready by Friday night.

Harry stared at the letter, swallowing thickly. His eyes traced every looped line, and, when that was finished, took in what it had been written further. He could see places where the parchment looked smoothed, as if someone had taken a finger and rubbed it, and one spot that looked lighter than the rest, as if it had been wetted then dried.

He pushed the thoughts away, and the concept he'd pursued for so long stopped teasing him from behind it.

Errol stirred again, and Harry numbly set the parchment aside. Hedwig's water dish was empty, so he removed it and took it downstairs to clean and fill it.

Dudley was alone in the kitchen, and, had Harry not been preoccupied, he might have feigned shock at this circumstance. Instead, he jolted when Dudley spoke.

"That's for your owl, isn't it?"

Harry blinked at Dudley, then turned back to the sink, running tap water into the bowl and rubbing the dust out of it with his fingers. "Very good, Dudley."

Dudley, evidently, still didn't walk out. Harry could feel him shift from foot to foot behind him. "So, they're sending you mails again, then?" Harry's brow furrowed as he turned, the running water forgotten.

"Why do you ask?"

Dudley looked away, and Harry shook his head. He rinsed, then filled the bowl, then turned, stopping when he saw Dudley still hadn't moved.

"So you're leaving, then?"

Harry nodded firmly, "Yeah."

Dudley nodded as well, slowly, muttering to himself, then, suddenly, "And you won't be back?"

That was it, thought Harry. The reason his cousin would be gloating soon. Harry, however, was not in the mood to put up with it. He turned and got a glass and filled it, as well, with water. His throat had dried out since he'd gotten the letter. "Yes, Dudders. I won't be coming back. So you can have your second room back." With a sigh, expecting a fight or at least a row, he turned and took a long swig of his water.

"I don't think mum likes that."

Harry almost choked, spitting his water into the sink. "What?!"

Dudley simply stared. "I don't think my mum is happy that you're leaving, is all." Dudley didn't look comfortable with the notion either, and he looked away pointedly, staring out the window.

Harry grit his teeth on a shout. It wouldn't do to get into trouble just before he was free to go, no matter how much he was beginning to dread the destination. He turned, however, and something in the way Dudley was looking out the window, awkward and nervous, seemed to take any sting out of his voice.

"Well... your mother didn't seem to care much when I was chased by..." Again, something stopped him from placing out and out blame, and he cleared his throat, "bullies, or locked in the broom cupboard, or forced to live as if the things I can do were something to be ashamed of." Harry sighed, filled his glass, and turned back to Dudley. "So, I think even you can understand that what your mum is happy about doesn't concern me overmuch."

Harry felt just a little better for having been able to tell Dudley off for years of hardship, but something still was not right. Still, he took up his glass and the bowl and turned to go, and had gotten out the door until Dudley's quiet voice stopped him.

"Why did you save me?"

Harry turned and blinked, thinking in the back of his mind that he'd spent much of the afternoon in that state. When he didn't answer Dudley swallowed. "Two years ago. Against the Depressors--"

"Dementors," Harry corrected automatically, though he still wasn't sure what was going on.

"Yes, whatever they were. I mean, I couldn't see them, but mum knew about them..." Dudley trailed off, swallowed, and sighed. "You obviously don't care much about us. They could have solved a big problem for you if you'd just let them... I don't know... do what they do. So... Why?" Again, he trailed off, and there was silence between them.

Finally Harry blew out breath, his eyes a little wider than he'd ever looked at his cousin. "Ah... because I was the only one who could." When Dudley looked at him, shocked, he shrugged. "You're right, Dud. You're a right pain in the neck. But I know what they can do, and no one deserves that."

"You've been depressed lately," Dudley nodded, as though he'd just revealed a significant truth, "It's all because of this Videl-... Verd-..."

"Voldemort."

"Right, him. It's because of that guy, right?"

"This is weird, Dudley..." Harry shook his head. "Why are you asking these things all of a sudden?"

"Look," Dudley said, scowling. "It's not like I think we're suddenly going to be best mates or something like that. I know it's probably too late for that sort of thing. It's just... you did save my life. If you weren't really the one making me feel like that in the first place..." He cast a skeptical eye on Harry, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Just... You've got friends, I know you do. And I'm not stupid. I know I don't. Not really." He nodded, presumably taking Harry's shocked look at face value. "So maybe I need to change something about myself, and maybe admitting you're not a bad freak is a step in the right direction."

Harry stared at him, deadpan, then sighed. "Maybe half a step," he said coolly. Dudley merely shrugged.

Harry gathered his glass and the water bowl for Errol and turned to leave. Once again, he was stopped. "I'm trying, all right? Just... just look in on Mum once before you leave, ok?" When Harry said nothing, Dudley sighed, exasperated asking, "please?"

Harry turned, eyes popping from their sockets, but Dudley was already gone, out the kitchen door into the garden.

As he was already packed except for the clothing he'd pulled out daily to wear, there was nothing for Harry to do except tend to Errol and wait. Hedwig had returned while Harry was speaking to Dudley, and eagerly accepted the task of responding to the note. "Just stay there," Harry instructed, gently stroking her beak, "I won't be coming back here."

So now, Harry lay on his bed, waiting, mulling over what had been possibly the longest, most intelligent, and oddest conversation he'd ever had with his cousin. In truth, he'd tried to come up with a reasonable excuse not to speak with his aunt, but the more he tried, the more he remembered Dudley's exasperated, "Please".

Finally he sat up and, with a sigh, heaved his way to his feet and out of the room. It didn't take him long to find her, as she was in the sitting room moodily looking out one of the windows, a cup of long cold tea in her hand. Harry cleared his throat once, then a second time, more loudly, before she looked at him, blinking owlishly.

"Dudley asked me to come talk to you."

"Don't lie," she spoke without her usual snap, and looked down before setting her cup and saucer on the table. Harry hadn't moved.

"I'm not lying," he said, shrugging. "I was surprised myself. He even said please."

"He's a well-behaved boy," she started, irritably, then swallowed. "At least, I tried... I..."

Her face crumpled, and Harry was afraid she would begin to cry right then and there. He'd seen her cry before, of course. But it was usually when she felt he was to blame for something or that Dudley had been cheated of getting... anything, he sighed mentally.

The look on her face now wasn't the overly dramatic look of a woman who wanted her way. It was, in its heart, true sadness. Harry had seen it on Ron's face when he'd failed his apparition test, or on Hermione's face when people teased her about answering questions in class.

Or on Ginny's face, the day of the funeral...

Harry closed his eyes and turned to leave. He couldn't bear to remember that, and couldn't bear to see true sadness on his aunt's face. On anyone's face. He had gone so far as to get his hand on the door when her quiet voice interrupted.

"I suppose you hate me now, don't you?"

Harry stopped, facing the door and looking down. He knew he had all the reasons in the world to turn, answer yes, and tear her down with every accusation he could muster about his treatment at her and her husband's hands. He simply couldn't do it. He was shaking his head and turning when she continued.

"I suppose that would be the thanks I get for taking you in, feeding you... treating you like--"

"Don't' say like family." Harry's voice, like his aunt's, was not harsh, but it was firm. "You treated me like..." He shook his head, sighing, "I wasn't family, at any rate."

Silence reigned, but Harry stood still, waiting. She looked like she was on the verge of saying something, even if it was another insult. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have given her the opportunity. Now, however, he realized that he was not coming back. Not ever. Perhaps her reminder that she had, in fact, taken him in, made him feel that he owed her a chance to speak just now. He only knew he should wait, and see.

Then, as if he'd taken a drink of Felix Felicis, he knew what he had to say.

"I..." He swallowed, looking down at the carpet, "I don't hate you." He looked up as she gave a small gasp, and met her eyes, finding he had to steel himself again to keep going. "I don't like how you treated me. I can't stand Uncle Vernon. You all had a chance to treat me like something other than a nuisance, and you failed at it." Petunia's mouth opened in outrage, but Harry cut across her quickly. "All that being said, I don't hate you."

She swallowed, and Harry saw something like hope in her eyes. It was as odd a feeling as when she'd admitted to knowing what Dementors were two years ago.

"I pity you." The hope dimmed, and her eyes filled with confusion. "You had a chance to know my mum, who everyone I've ever talked to said was a wonderful person. Teachers, students, my dad, everyone thought she was a good person to know. And you pushed her away, because she was a little bit different."

Harry could see tears beginning to well up in her eyes, and he almost stopped. As had happened so often, however, once he started stopping was near impossible. "Do you know how my mum, your sister, died? She died because a powerful wizard who was determined to kill me wouldn't listen to her pleas. She died because she wouldn't get out of his way so that he could get to me. And because she died protecting me, he couldn't kill me, he couldn't even touch me for fourteen years."

He was trembling now, and his jaw ached from clenching his teeth, something he hadn't been aware he was doing. He continued, taking no satisfaction in her paling face or spilling tears. "You could have known a wonderful person, and called her your sister. So, no, I don't hate you. I pity you, because it's too late."

"BOY!" The bark came from the closed parlor door, and Vernon Dursley's beefy hand shoved it open. "There's someone here for you! What is th-- Petunia?"

Harry saw his aunt try, valiantly, to wipe her eyes before he was grabbed by the shoulder and forced to turn into the all too familiar sight of his uncle's purple, apoplectic face. "What have you DONE here, BOY?!"

"Vernon, no, it--" Petunia's barely audible denial was drowned out by Vernon's snarl.

"If you've done any of that... that- I'll not- You aren- I'll-"

"I haven't done anything but talk to her," Harry said, coolly.

Vernon sneered. "A likely story. You've not sought out anything but supper, and not even always that. Why would I believe you'd seek us out to talk?"

"Because Dudley asked him to," came the soft, trembling answer from his aunt.

Harry didn't have time to react before Vernon tutted.

"There's someone here says he's to take you away. I don't want you to come back, to you hear me, boy? I never want to see you again!"

Harry had reached the end of his tether. With a mighty heave, he shoved Vernon's arm off of his shoulder. "In two weeks, I'll legally be able to do magic. You had better hope you don't see me again."

He heard Petunia's shout to stop before he saw his uncle's massive fist raise back to strike him. Harry reached for his wand, but before his uncle could let fly, a cool, even voice sounded behind Vernon, halting all action.

"I am of an age that I can legally do magic sir. I think maybe you should let Harry go."

Vernon swallowed, let go of the bunch of Harry's shirt that he had caught, and even went so far as to smooth it down before stepping past Harry to his wife. Harry finally got a clear view of the red headed man standing in the doorway, eyes like chips of ice on Vernon's back.

There was a slight tinge of disappointment as he realized the man was alone, but still, he nodded gravely. "Hullo, Charlie."


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed odd, walking down Privet Drive next to Charlie Weasley. Harry couldn't help casting furtive glances at Charlie, who seemed oblivious. He wasn't behaving the way Harry had expected either. He'd been expecting everything from anger to a cold shoulder from the Weasley brothers and Charlie seemed rather cheerful.

"Ginny asked me to come get you, you know." It had finally come, and Harry snuck yet another look. Charlie wasn't watching him with a glaring eye. In fact, he seemed to be casually watching the skies as they walked. His very posture seemed casual, from his hands in his jeans pocket to the smile on his face.

Harry swallowed thickly. He couldn't bring himself to look at Charlie again, and after a few moments it became evident that Charlie was looking at him. "Th-thank you," he stammered, then sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump. He'd hoped, beyond all wanting and even believing, that she would be one of the people to pick him up. He should have known better. And even if she had, he thought angrily, what good would it serve? He couldn't be with her. He couldn't risk her that way. He _wouldn't_ risk her that way.

Charlie cleared his throat, and Harry felt his face flush. He remained silent, walking on, until Charlie began to whistle, a strange, haunting tune. Harry glanced up then, wondering if the older man had learned it in Romania.

"The signal," Charlie smiled, and stopped, leaning back against a tree. He looked at his watch. "It looks like we have a bit of time. You should relax. Maybe talk. You seem to have quite a bit on your mind."

Harry winced slightly, and looked up at Charlie, but there was neither a reproachful look nor hardness in his tone. He seemed genuinely concerned. Harry swallowed again and shook his head, "Nothing to talk about."

"Nonsense," Charlie said, clucking his tongue. "You've got the same look Ginny's had all week." Harry started, looking up at Charlie, who looked back with a tiny smile on his face. "She won't tell me what's wrong, either. I have a feeling it has something to do with you."

Harry looked down, expecting the hammer to fall. He was, in a way, relieved that it would finally be over with.

"I can't say, Charlie," was his soft reply. He looked at him, lifting his chin up, and met his eyes for the first time since they left the Dursleys. "It's... personal."

Charlie pierced Harry with his gaze, then, to Harry's surprise, nodded slowly. "That's exactly what Ginny said." He sighed, looking down the street. "I can't say I like it, Harry. I don't like to see Ginny sad. It's so unlike her." Harry nodded, but Charlie continued. "I don't like to see you sad, either. It's a hard enough time as it is without finding other reasons to be depressed, right?" Charlie smiled, a little sadly at Harry.

"It's..." Harry looked away, then back at Charlie, deciding to confide in someone, if only a little. "It's because of Voldemort."

Charlie nodded, as if the last piece of a vexing puzzle were put into place. "Talk to me later about it, Harry. Here's our ride." Harry looked up to see Mundungus, oddly subdued and understandably wary, and Tonks walk up. Tonks was holding what looked like an empty soda bottle.

"Wotcher, Harry, Charlie!" Tonks's hair was a lively shade of blue, and she winked at Harry, a bit more her old self.

"'llo, Tonks," Harry said, but Charlie pulled her into a tight hug.

"When's it supposed to go, Nynny?" He winked at Harry, ignoring Tonks's glare.

"Five minutes, plenty of time," Tonks punched Charlie lightly in the arm, "and I told you, call me _Tonks_."

"Aww, c'mon," Charlie drawled, easily, bringing a reluctant smile to both Tonks's and Harry's faces. "Tonks makes you sound like one of the twins' jokes backfired."

That brought a laugh from the auror, who lifted the bottle. "All right, all right, but come up with something better than Nynny, if you would. Now, grab on, it'll go off soon."

Harry reached forward, touching the bottle with two fingers, then cast a look at Mundungus. "Isn't he coming?" Harry was surprised at the coldness in his own voice, but he had remembered the scene in Hogsmeade. Mundungus Fletcher wasn't among his favorite people right now.

"Nah, I'm stayin'," Dung refused to look at Harry, "Got an assignment to watch yer muggles."

"Well, I hope a stack of cauldrons doesn't fall off a broom somewhere or they're in deep trouble."

Harry ignored Charlie's raised eyebrow, and was grateful when the tugging sensation happened behind his naval. It had cut of Tonks's admonition.

After she and Harry had picked themselves off the ground, Tonks gave Harry a look that reminded him of Hermione; Half-exasperated, half amused, then turned to Charlie. "I'll go in and make sure the coast is clear," she said.

Harry blinked at her as she strode toward the kitchen door, and turned to Charlie. He was grinning, causing a certain amount of unease in Harry's chest.

"The, ah, twins," began Charlie. "They seem to have put together that Ginny's recent depression is caused by you. Needless to say, they're not exactly happy." Harry's blood ran cold. Being on the twins' bad side was not a position he had anticipated. He, briefly, wondered which would be worse, the wrath of the Dark Lord Voldemort, or the wrath of the Weasley Twins.

"If I can survive this, Voldemort will be easy," he muttered, bringing about a nervous laugh from Charlie.

Tonks came to the window and waved the two in, meeting them at the door. "They're not here," she told Charlie, her eyes sparkling in merriment. "Your mum has sent the boys into the village for more drinks and ice. Don't look too relieved Harry," she said with a decided twinkle in her eye. "I get the feeling that she wanted first crack at you." Harry looked around at Charlie, his eyes widening in alarm. Charlie only grinned.

"Sorry, Harry, I can run interference with the twins, certainly. Mum is a different story. You're on your own."

Tonks giggled, then handed Harry a butterbeer. "I wouldn't worry too much, Harry," she said, turning to look through the kitchen entryway at the crowd beyond. "She's too involved with family and wedding things to worry about... just yet."

Remus passed by the door, and with a little hop, she turned, winked at Harry, and sashayed her way out, an effect that was completely ruined when she stumbled on her way out the door.

"What's going on here, Charlie?" Harry had only seen the Weasley home so occupied once before, during Christmas and his birthday, and this had all the markings of more than a family affair.

Charlie started a bit, his brows raising, "I forgot to say, didn't I? Mum's having a bit of a get together before the wedding. I think she needed to unwind. She's been running about like a half crazed house elf."

Harry smirked, half amused at the sudden image of a large eared, large nosed Molly Weasley squeakily getting her children up and about. Charlie had apparently had a similar thought, judging by the large smile he had on his face. Harry bit back a laugh and entered the main sitting room.

The scene was a tribute to organized chaos. Harry let his eyes wander around the room to rest, for a short time, on each member of his favorite family in the wizarding world. Fond memories flooded him of the past six years, years in which this family, as a lifeline, would offer freely what the Dursleys would, or could, not. Mr. Weasley, whose patience in listening to his seemingly mad schemes was the closest thing he could call fatherhood since Sirius had passed on. Molly, who's bustling, sometimes frightening demeanor hid the softest heart he could imagine, one that had accepted him so readily he'd scarcely known it was happening until it was over. Each red haired, freckle faced member brought a surge of warmth in the way that they'd accepted him and treated him like family, until a flash of movement caught his eye, and he turned his gaze to the stairs just in time to see a white flash of a girl's trainers disappear above the ceiling line. Hermione shook her head and caught Harry's eye, then looked away suddenly, as if ashamed to have intruded on his thoughts.

Those thoughts took a darker turn, and he found himself wondering what they thought of him. What did it mean that even a flash of red and white in the corner of his eye sent his heart racing and brought a lump to his throat? Harry suddenly wanted nothing more than to sink back into the shadows and disappear from this family's warm home, to never have darkened their doorway. Surely a lifetime of the Dursleys was better than this feeling right now. If only slightly.

The urge to turn to Charlie and ask for just that froze with his heart as Molly turned and spotted him, and as one all of the eyes in the room honed in on the same place. Molly straightened, tightened her lips into a line, and, it seemed, fairly stalked toward Harry. It was as if she were trying legilimency on him, the way his vision went hazy around the edges. He felt, as if from far away, that he'd stumbled back. It wasn't long before he was caught, and pulled into a motherly embrace by Molly Weasley.

Harry's heart started beating again, but he was so confused he almost missed what Mrs. Weasley was saying. He patted her back awkwardly, focusing on her words. "I know it's hard, Harry, I know it is, but you'll work things out. I have faith." It was said with such utter conviction, such emphasis, that Harry couldn't bring himself to argue. Did she think that all that had happened was that Ginny and he had had some kind of row? A glance at Charlie showed he was just as confused as Harry.

Molly let go, smiling encouragingly before turning to minister to the rest of the party goers. Eyes averted from them and the party seemed to go on, but Harry, at least, could feel a heavy tension in the air. He looked down, not looking over when Charlie patted his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Mum's always had a bit of a soft spot when it came to you, I think, Harry," Charlie said, shaking his head. "I think you could kick Dad in the shins and she'd say you were just being precocious." Harry almost laughed at that.

"Somehow, I think I'd feel better if she'd yelled at me or hexed me," Harry admitted. He couldn't get past the image of Ginny's white trainer dashing up the steps.

"Well, wait a bit. The twins will be back, maybe you'll be luckier with them." Charlie's voice was tinged with humor. Harry's look of horror must have been part of the joke. Charlie chuckled even louder.

"I... I think I'll just... turn in," Harry stammer through the panic in his chest, "Long day and all that."

Charlie nodded, patting Harry on the shoulder one more time. "Don't worry, Harry. I'll make sure nothing happens while you're sleeping. Buy you'll have to watch your own back when you wake, OK?"

Without waiting for an answer, Charlie headed toward the kitchen. Harry made his way to the steps, stopping by Ron and Hermione, who had, it seemed, been waiting for him there.

"All right, Harry," Ron asked, staring at his drink. Harry felt a note of coolness in his voice.

"No," he answered, only partly surprised when Ron nodded.

"Harry," Hermione started, but, for once, seemed at a loss for words. Instead she hugged him, much as Mrs. Weasley had done. "It'll be all right, you'll see," she said, unconsciously mimicking the Weasley matron. Harry sighed and said nothing.

Ron seemed on the edge of saying something, and would have, except for a warning glare from Hermione. Instead, he sighed, putting his hands in either pocket. An awkward silence ensued.

"Ah. Nice vacation?" tried Hermione. She closed her eyes tightly after saying it, as if knowing it was a stupid question. Harry chose to answer as if it wasn't.

"It's been all right, about the same as last year, really." He smirked, as close to a smile as he could get. "Except this year Uncle Vernon tried to hit me."

The comment was met much the way he'd expected it to be, with shock from Hermione, and anger from Ron. "He didn't!" Hermione gasped, and Ron breathed out such a vile curse that if he'd been heard his mother would have had him cutting sprouts for a month.

Harry nodded, encouraged slightly by his friends' reactions. "Charlie came in just in time, or I'd have done underage magic again. Not that it matters."

Saying those last four words took the life straight from the conversation, and the three friends looked around, warily. Ron broke the new silence, "After the wedding, right?"

"Right," Harry replied, his face suddenly grim. "We end it this year, one way or another.

He couldn't bear to see the concern flicker between Ron and Hermione's faces. Looking down, he sighed. "I've had a long day. I take it I'm in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah, Bill's here tonight, and Charlie... you know how it is."

"Heard from Percy?" The question, he felt, was as foolish as Hermione's. He regretted it instantly. Ron, However, seemed pleased to have a topic in which he could finally stop choosing his words carefully, and spent a good five minutes roundly abusing Percy and his treatment of the rest of the Weasley family in high fashion. By the end of it, Hermione was fighting laughter, and even Harry had to smile.

"All right, all right, I shouldn't have brought it up!" Harry chuckled finally. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

He turned just in time to spot George and Fred walk in through the front door. Hermione and Ron instantly moved together, facing away from Harry, Ron's hand flapping behind him in a shooing motion.

Harry needn't be told twice. He hurried up the stairs, all the while keeping an eye on the twins. As such, he didn't see at the landing when he bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't wa--"

His heart promptly jammed into his throat, for there, sitting wide eyed on the floor where she had fallen was Ginny, looking for all the world like she had stuck her elbow in the butter dish.

It seemed like an eternity that they remained in place, staring at each other. Harry could feel that his face was pale, and Ginny's jaw worked as if she were trying to swallow something particularly nasty.

Harry moved first, putting out his hand to help her up, just as Ginny pushed against the floor, and they were standing together, closer than they had been in weeks.

Both stepped back hastily, neither looking at each other as they stammered apologies. Ginny swallowed once, sighed, and looked up, capturing Harry with her eyes. "It's good to see you well, Harry," she said, turning on her heel and marching, slightly wobbly, to her room, where she closed the door with a final sounding click.

Harry watched the door for a moment before letting his own breath out. "It's good to see you well, too, Ginny," he whispered to it, trudging up the next flights of stairs to his camp bed in Ron's room.

* * *

A/N: I want to extend a hand to my beta, Tanaxanth, for being very patient with me in my newness and sometimes puppy-like excitement to see this story through. Also, my pre-betas, Kimiko, Tzigane, Oklina, and Laone, who are very encouraging when they see what I send them. :)

B/N: Excitement is a good thing, and newness isn't always a bad thing. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

Harry lay on the bed for hours, listening to the muted sounds of the continuing party below. He'd tried to clear his mind, get rest, but his busy thoughts made a liar out of him. It was funny, really, how his mind could wander far and wide when he needed to do schoolwork or learn a way past a trial, but could now focus with pinpoint precision on the one thing he felt he had no business pondering.

_I really oughtn't be surprised, _he thought bitterly. _She was almost as much on my thoughts as Malfoy was last year, even when she was off limits._ He turned over and tried to get his pillow into a more comfortable shape, sighing. It was an unfair comparison, really. Comparing Draco and Ginny was like comparing Snape and Sirius. Wrong, ridiculous, and slightly painful.

He rolled over, facing the wall, inches from his face. He didn't want to think of Ginny right now, let alone Draco. He wanted to sleep. One night of sleep before the wedding, one more after, and then he was leaving alone. If he could manage it. He'd been planning that for weeks now, how to slip away without the eagle-eyed Hermione and the dogged Ron knowing. He hadn't managed anything more plausible than Apparating away as soon as the vows were made, and that seemed, somehow, impolite.

He sighed, instead pulling his mind to focus on the problem at hand. It would be over, one way or another, soon. He would find the Horcruxes, he would destroy them, and he would end Voldemort once and for all. Or he would die trying. It was a little disconcerting that a minor point of relief came with that thought. If he died trying, he would, at least, be able to rest, wouldn't he?

The thought left him feeling cold and alone again, and he mentally kicked himself. He was here for a wedding, a happy memory to help him through the dark times he was rushing into. Dwelling on negative thoughts like that would only lead to ruin. He could almost hear Hermione bossing him in his head to think of something happier, and had to smile.

She had been bossing him, he mused quietly, for almost seven years now. Ron had been helping him to keep her in check for almost as long. He couldn't imagine a time when it hadn't been the three of them, barring the odd argument here or there. Odd how it seemed, when the bad times were on them, that everything was crashing around them. Now they were, ready to head off together and face the most evil--

He cut himself off, and emptied his mind, sighing and allowing himself to fall off into a rapid sleep, knowing the whole time that, somewhere, somehow, their trio had turned into a quartet, despite his efforts to return it to what it once was.

* * *

He was holding her hand, somehow the burning triumph that had swelled in his heart only moments ago not quenched by the rising ice of doubt in his chest. Had he done the right thing in kissing her? Was he doing the right thing now? Was that red tinting her ears from excitement? Embarrassment? Anger? His stomach started to churn. 

"How long?"

He was brought out of his reverie by this question and looked to the side and down at the petite girl holding his hand. "Huh," he asked intelligently, "how long?"

Ginny simply nodded, her lips pressed in a line that looked as if it were trying to fight off a smile, and he chewed his own lower lip. "Ah. Well... It couldn't have been more than a few moments, could it? Even if it felt like..." He trailed off, seeing the look of confusion slowly overcoming her face.

Suddenly she laughed a bright, joyful laugh that he wouldn't have minded causing quite often. "No! I meant how long you had felt... ah... have you wanted to..." She, too, trailed off, and Harry, finally understanding what she'd meant, found his face heating to match her blush.

"Oh. Ah." He chuckled, sighing. She wasn't angry, and she was embarrassed but not mortified. "Well... If I must be honest--"

"You must, you must!"

"Do you remember when Ron and I walked in on you and Dean kissing?"

Ginny nodded, and then her mouth dropped open. "That long, Harry?" He nodded, looking down at his shoes instead of at her until she laughed again. "You undeniable, utter prat!" Harry looked up at her, eyes as wide as Hedwig's "You didn't say anything?" He shook his head. "You just went on pining away?"

"Well, I didn't pine, really, it was more of--"

"I knew it," she crowed gleefully as they reached the outer doors. "I simply knew something was going on!" She turned, grinning at him while walking backwards. Not once, he noticed with a happy lurch in his stomach, did she let go of his hand.

She raised her free hand and ticked off on her fingers. "You kept getting hit with Bludgers-"

"The Beaters were improving a lot, you know-"

"-and you were laughing at my jokes a lot-"

"What? You're funny!"

"-and your eyes kept wandering to my lips when we spoke," she finished with a smug look.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but found that he couldn't. "Was I really that much of a git?"

Ginny smiled up at him, turning to continue their walk. "I wouldn't say git. Prat works much better." She peered up at him, her voice softening. "Besides, I think you'll find I didn't mind much." She giggled, squeezing his hand. "Now that I think about it, it was kind of a nice change of pace." Her eyes sparkled and she turned to lead Harry toward the lake, interrupting his question as to exactly what she meant. Finally, they were at the lake when Harry put his foot down, literally, stopping them both. Ginny gave a little squeak as their arms reached their limit and she snapped back into Harry's chest. Harry's arm wrapped around her, and he had to smile at the results, accident or no.

"You did that on purpose," Ginny's muffled voice said from beneath his chin.

"No," he replied honestly, "but I think you'll find I don't mind much."

Ginny laughed, looking up at him, and for a moment they were silent. Then she leaned up, kissing his lips and driving any and all other thoughts from his mind.

When they finally parted, he pulled her to his chest, breathing in deeply. He smiled at the scent of her hair, flowery, but not overpowering. "How is it that you smell so..." he tried to think of a poetic way to put it, but nothing came to mind, "...good," he finished, lamely.

"It's a potion Mum makes. It smells different for anyone who uses it."

Harry's eyes widened slightly. "Is that so? That's... interesting."

"How so?" Ginny asked, blinking up at him quizzically.

"I'll tell you later," he said, giving her another, shorter kiss. He felt dazed. Light headed. Happy.

"Do you want to hear about the Quidditch match?" The look in her eyes seemed to match his feelings.

Harry smiled lazily. "What Quidditch match?"

* * *

Harry felt a gentle rocking sensation as the smile crept over his features. It was... It was annoying, actually. He opened his eyes and scowled, looking over his shoulder at his best friend's face. Before Ron could speak, Harry noted the tale-tell redness of his friend's ears. 

"Look, Harry, I don't _want_ to know what the murmuring and moaning was about." Harry opened his mouth, but Ron held up a hand to stop him, "especially not the moaning. But Mum's going batty and I think it'd be best you woke up before she woke you up." Ron stood swiftly, pointedly not looking at him. "I'll give you a bit to... finish."

Harry sat up quickly, then, protesting the entire time, but his friend had already left. Harry suspected that Ron's hands were over his ears. He flushed.

It had been a nice dream, though, too nice. His fingers went up to his scar on reflex. No prickling. No tingling. He sighed and put his head on his knees. He had to watch that. He still hadn't got the hang of Occlumency. If Voldemort learned anything from his dreams, if Ginny, or anyone, was killed because of that, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. He would have to find someone to learn Occlumency from, preferably as quickly as possible.

He turned, putting his feet on the floor, and pulled clothing out of his trunk. Despite not wanting to let his friend believe that he'd had anything more than a pleasant dream, he took his time dressing. He could not face the family he'd come to regard as his own. He'd noticed it the night before, but even this morning, the sick feeling that he was an oddity in an otherwise normal household choked him. It was odd to feel that way in this house, which had been a sanctuary for him when he'd needed it most.

That fact that the dream was a happy one was also unusual, for in the past weeks since Dumbledore's death, the little sleep Harry had managed to get was often plagued with nightmare images of his goals. Of finding the Horcruxes only to realize there were more than he'd expected, or of destroying them only to find Voldemort here killing his friends before he could stop them.

He shook his head to clear it. No sense in dwelling on the past. The future would have problems of its own.

Finally dressed, he stood and faced the door, steeling himself to face the very thing he'd longed for since the train ride home. The last bit of normalcy he could dare to hope for, possibly for the rest of his life. An affirmation of just what he was going to go out and fight Voldemort for.

One more chance to see Ginny--

No. No, he could not let that thought enter his mind. He had to purge it from his mind. It was the only way to keep her safe.

Trodding down the stairs, he heard whispering and stopped a landing above, eyes narrowed. Hermione's back was to him on the landing below, and Ron's face must have been buried in her thick hair, because he would have seen Harry and stopped otherwise. They were one landing above the ground floor, whispering softly to each other.

"I hate hiding things from him," Ron hissed, sounding as if he'd like to be more forceful but was having difficulty working out how to do so and not start an argument.

Hermione's head tilted back. "I know, Ron, I do, but he has so much to deal with. He'll only worry if he knows, you know how he is."

"I know." The words sounded grim, resigned. "It's just... this is big." He tilted his head down, and Harry could barely hear the next sentence. "Any other time he'd have been thrilled, you know."

Hermione didn't say anything, but from the way Ron's arms wrapped around the small of her back, she needn't have. Harry once again was struck with the same feeling he'd felt so long ago in the greenhouse. Despite his previous thoughts, he grinned.

"Finally worked it out, have you?" The level speaking voice startled the whispering couple, and they jerked apart, eyes wide, looking up the stairs.

"Harry," Hermione yelped, her voice slightly higher than normal. "Er, g-good morning!"

Harry smirked as he came down the remaining stairs to where they stood, Hermione busy trying to hide her face behind her hair (she didn't have to work hard) and Ron's ears fairly glowing. "So?"

"Hmm," Ron grunted, swallowing. "So?"

"So, how long?" Harry asked while grinning at them.

Hermione, her voice shaking, pushed her hair away from her eyes, though they still couldn't seem to meet Harry's. "Since..." She swallowed, "since the train ride."

Harry digested the information. A part of him was disappointed that they hadn't trusted him with such news, but it was quickly squashed by reason; he had hardly been accessible when this must have happened, after all.

"So, what's the problem then," he asked, because they both still looked as if they'd been caught stealing from his trunk.

"Mate, we didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I mean..."

"Knowing you, I'd have found out sooner or later, I think," Harry chanced a smile at that, and was rewarded with stunned looks from the pair. It was becoming quite amusing.

"Yes, but... with the war," Hermione floundered, which was also quite amusing. "I mean, Voldemort is just getting stronger," she squeaked, reflexively patting Ron's arm as he shuddered, "don't you think it's... wrong... to get involved like this at... at this time?"

Harry's eyes were widening, and he smiled, incredulously amused at his best friends' trains of thought. "So you're saying that because Voldemort is out there, because he wants people to stop feeling anything but his way, you shouldn't?" Hermione opened her mouth, but couldn't get the words out before Harry was speaking again. "Because that's what he wants, and more. He wants pure-bloods to stop caring about Muggle-borns, and he wants Muggle-borns to lie down and die." Harry arched a brow, his eyes traveling between Hermione's and Ron's. "He doesn't want you to care about each other, or date, or even be friends."

Harry's friends sat, stunned, gaping, and Harry leaned in. "Well, it didn't stop Remus and Tonks. It didn't stop your mum and dad, Ron, let alone mine. So it really shouldn't stop you, right?"

"That's very good advice, Harry," came a quiet voice behind him. His back stiffened uncontrollably, cold shivers running up and down it. He couldn't move, but didn't have to. Ginny pushed past them, stopping two or three steps down and looking back over her shoulder. Harry's eyes were once again captured by hers, and she swallowed thickly. "That's advice that really ought to be taken."

Before he could respond, she had gone, almost as if she had Disapparated. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at each other, awkwardly, until Ron broke the silence.

"Well... it's... it's obvious she just doesn't get i- OOF!"

Hermione tromped down the stairs, rubbing her elbow which had just seconds ago been embedded in Ron's side. She didn't spare them a backwards glance.

"What was that for?" Ron ground out, rubbing his chest.

It occurred to Harry that the last time Ron had uttered that phrase, it had been completely incorrect. Once again he found himself thinking that, perhaps, it was Ron who didn't understand things.

* * *

A/N: Wow, this one was a long time. Sometimes the words just flow, but usually I have to wait for them to speak to me, and I think my Muse was kinda ticked off at me this month. Once again, thank you for all the encouraging comments, and thanks to my beta, Tanaxanth, for encouragement and the proper tools for catching my poor punctuation (he has a special net to get those rampaging commas, don't you know?) 


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the day passed in such a flurry of activity that Harry, later, could not sort one event from the other until after the wedding. The only thing to stand out was a very loud argument in French. Fleur's mother could not seem to understand why the wedding had to be held at the Burrow, and was, by all accounts, rather abusive toward the home and the family that comprised it. Fleur had got so angry at one point that, as she tossed her nearly white-blonde hair, Harry could have sworn that feathers floated to the ground. The row calmed down only after Fleur's mother swept away in a dignified huff, and Bill whisked Fleur into the house to cool down.

In the end, Mrs. Weasley was inexplicably more cheerful, but still quite frantic to get the wedding preparations just so. Harry's mind soon became a blur as he helped raise the canopy, set chairs around the garden, and generally help out. To anyone else, this might have been an imposition. To Harry, he found it a good distraction against the flashes of long red hair at his peripheral vision, flashes that always seemed to disappear whenever he tried to catch better sight of them.

The work was physically tasking, but mentally he could let his mind wander, and he threw it to the thought that had been lingering on the edge of his consciousness since he'd first stepped foot back in Privet drive.

There was something to it, he felt, something that would become a great help in his fight against Voldemort, something that would even be an advantage. So he drew upon his mental faculties to find the thought, remember it clearly once and for all. As he did so, his mind wandered more than ever. Remembering the looks on Ron's and Hermione's faces when he told them he would not need them to come to the Dursleys' with him, since he wouldn't be staying overlong. Remembering Charlie's friendly concern about him and Ginny, remembering the dream of that morning, and the warmth it caused in his belly when he was awake.

Annoyed, he pushed these thoughts of friendship and happy times away, trying desperately to grab onto that thought. They seemed to be preventing him from catching it, however, and the poor last gnome he found had traveled quite a distance in his frustration.

Finally, there was nothing left to do other than get ready for the wedding, and he found that he had a sense of trepidation at the prospect of witnessing this happy time. In the bathroom, futilely combing his hair, the feeling that he had was out of place in this happy home once again overcame him. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply; he could simply leave now. Apparate away and get on with his quest, finish things once and for all. By the time they realized he was gone, it would be too late to follow him, and they would be safe.

He looked into the mirror, looking into his own face and hating what he saw. The mirror whispered, "She's waiting, you know.". After a moment, he set his comb down, straightened his robes, and sighed; one more time with this family, one more normal, happy occasion.

One more chance to see Ginny…

He glared defiantly at the mirror, daring himself to force the thought away, then nodded when he didn't and left the restroom.

* * *

_Bad idea, this was a bad idea. Why did I think this obviously bad idea was ever a good idea?_ Harry fumed at himself as he the wedding wound on. 

He did not mind that the ceremony was rather long, nor was it tedious. It was a pretty thing to watch, and the center of the ceremony, Bill and Fleur, were radiant in their happiness. It didn't even bother him that Gabrielle blushed as she passed his seat.

It was that Ginny was there. And she was beautiful. And he could not take his eyes off of her.

The words washed over Harry, unheeded, unheard, bringing mental images that he found himself clinging to: his mother and father standing together, hand in hand, facing each other with bright smiles, Sirius standing by their side. How had it been for them, to marry in a time of war, to know that the greatest Dark Lord of an age was out there, and that the future was bleak, and to still want to share each other's lives?

He found himself, to his shame, vaguely jealous of his own parents, who allowed themselves that.

His jaw clenched as his eyes rested on Ginny, who was in turn watching her brother. A lone tear tracked down her face, and Harry had to look down. He couldn't do it. He wasn't brave enough to risk her, to risk anyone. It would kill him to hear that she was hurt or killed simply because she was attached to him.

The thought that plagued him all summer buzzed in the back of his mind, but he was sick of the mental chase. He thought, instead, of his friends, and how close he was to losing them all. He then made a decision.

He would leave after the party, alone, and hope, when it was over, that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would forgive him eventually.

He closed his eyes, once again seeing his parents standing together. He willed the image to blur, to fade, but as they did he could have sworn that, somehow, they also changed, that the green and brown eyes changed places for a split second until it was gone.

* * *

Harry had congratulated Bill and Fleur, with a kiss to both cheeks for his troubles, when it happened. A space had been cleared in the garden and a wooden floor had been conjured up for dancing. Bill and Fleur were in the center, looking into each other's eyes as slow music changed from one song to another. They gave no sign of noticing. 

Molly's voice behind him startled him, "Harry, be a luv and dance, won't you?" He turned, putting on a smile until he caught sight of the partner Mrs. Weasley was holding. Ginny wouldn't even look him in the eye.

Silence stretched for nearly a minute, with Ginny glaring at the ground and Molly looking at him, pleadingly. Finally, he nodded, "All right."

Molly's smile was brilliant, and she moved them to the dance floor and let them go. Ginny's eyes were pinned on Harry's shoulder, her jaw set in much the same way Harry's had been before.

The music was slow, and despite his shaking hands, it felt nice to touch Ginny again. They rocked together, slowly, in time with the music, both of them doing their best to avoid looking into the eyes of the other.

"You don't have to do this you know," Ginny whispered, her voice oddly strained.

Harry did look down, then, to the top of her head. For the longest time, each individual hair captured his attention, before he managed to whisper, "I know. I... I wanted to."

Ginny looked up, then, and it was like a jolt to Harry's chest. Her eyes were clear, but reddened a little. He could not, if she'd demanded it, look away.

He wanted to lean down, then, and capture her lips with his, to pull her close and swear to bring down Voldemort himself, Horcruxes or no, if she would only smile for him again. He could feel his back bowing to kiss her, and could almost swear that she stretched up toward him. He hesitated.

Ginny pulled away. "I can't. I'm sorry, I--" She stepped backward, her hand on her stomach, looking for the entire world as if she were about to be sick before she pushed her way across the floor. Harry didn't track her. He could only stare at the place she had been, his heart sinking. He'd almost failed her. He'd almost lost his resolve, and that was the most dangerous thing he could do.

"'Arry?"

Harry turned stiffly, blinking as Gabrielle Delacour's face looked up at him nervously. Her brow creased, and it occured to Harry that he must look particularly down. "If eet ees a bad time--"

"No, Gabrielle." Harry smiled, or tried to, and he could see Gabrielle biting her lip. "What is it?"

She paused, and it seemed she might have turned to go until she clenched a fist and straightened her shoulders, looking at Harry straight in the eye. "May I dance avec vo-- with you, 'Arry?"

Harry looked back at her, blinking foolishly, watching her face redden as the song ended and a new one began. Another slow song, as most of them would probably be that night. He smiled, ruefully, and held out his hand. "Yes, Gabrielle, it would be my pleasure."

* * *

After two songs, both of which he spent with Gabrielle, Harry looked toward the fence. Hermione and Ron were waiting for him at the fence just beyond the dance floor. Ron, especially, gestured for him to join them, a cup in each hand, and Harry excused himself from a now happily smiling Gabrielle. 

"Harry," said Hermione as soon as he was close enough. "I saw what happened. With Ginny, I mean. I'm sorry."

"I almost gave in." Even to his own ears, the words sounded grim, as if holding Ginny would have been the worst possible mistake. _And it would be, if she were killed because of you, wouldn't it?_ Harry sighed and looked out past the fence.

"Well, I think it's ridiculous," growled Ron. Harry turned toward him, blinking owlishly, and Hermione grabbed Ron's arm.

"Ron, don't!'

Ron gazed at Harry, then Hermione, and wilted. "It's just..." His tone broke, and he leaned against the fence, putting one large hand to his face. "I don't like seeing her like this."

"I don't like _doing_ this, Ron," spat Harry, suddenly furious. "I don't want any of this!" He gestured to the house, toward the party outside that was still full of chatter. "I want to go back there and enjoy it and not worry about how everyone I care about is in grave danger because some idiot decided a one-year-old boy was too much for him to handle!"

Ron's ears were red. "Well, if you expect me to be happy watching my little sister--" he cut off, squeezing his eyes shut. "Oh bollocks," he growled and turned, flinging a hand out as if to knock away a Bludger, and stormed away.

Harry made to follow, but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Harry, please don't." She looked at him imploringly "It's hard. Ginny's been... I know, Harry," she said, stopping his angry retort, "I know you're hurting, too, even if you won't say so. Just let me talk to him, OK?"

Harry said nothing, but relaxed, and she patted his arm. "I'll be back. _We'll_ be back. OK?" He nodded, and she went off to find him. Harry could see them ahead, speaking to each other, just along the fence, well out of earshot.

He turned his attention to the party, watching Fleur and Bill, his face already scarred by the war, dancing, looking deep into each other's eyes. Bill's features were softened, and Fleur's, when she spun into view, were rapt. Transfigured by their happiness, it was as if, to them, there was only each other and the music.

Nearby, in a similar state, were the eldest Weasleys, Arthur and Molly, looking into each other's eyes as if it were the first day they had seen each other. Arthur's lips moved, and Molly blushed and hid her face in his shoulder. After a short time, she turned her head, resting her cheek against her husbands shoulder, eyes closed, smiling peacefully.

Harry pulled his eyes away, only to find them resting on Hermione and Ron, his two best friends (of three), and watched as Hermione pulled Ron into her arms and rocked him, slowly, the smaller witch somehow comforting the taller wizard. A lump rose in Harry's throat, and he swallowed heavily.

And then he made his decision.

He made his way, as quietly as possible, to the house, smiling and nodding almost automatically. He avoided small talk as politely as possible where he could, politely excusing himself after a few moments where he couldn't. He was in the house and up the stairs faster than he anticipated. He opened his trunk and grabbed his broom, making a small bundle of his darkest clothing to take with him. Looking out the window one more time at the party below, he turned away, vowing in his heart of hearts that no one would pay for the fight he knew he had to fight.

Harry moved as silently as possible down the dark stairwell, careful to avoid the squeaking step on the way. He silently opened the front door, stepped through, and closed it as quietly as he could. He was halfway down the path when he heard the voice behind him.

"Running off then, Harry?"

Harry turned, wand in hand, to find Ginny glaring at him from next to the door, where she had been leaning against the wall. She, too, had her wand in her hand, but it was not brought up defensively as Harry's was.

"Put that thing down, Harry." She pushed off from the wall, looking slightly off balance. "Or do you fancy a bit of a duel?" She stumbled further from the wall, putting her wand up. Harry noticed the tip of it wobble.

Harry's wand arm dropped to his side. The next words out of his mouth were possibly not advisable, but the sheer surprise of the situation caused him to blurt them out. "Ginny, are you drunk?!"

"So what, " she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "My brother is marrying... he's... If I can't drink _now_, when could I?!" She wobbled and raised her wand again, pointing oddly to the left.

"I'm not going to fight you, Ginny."

"Oh no," she crowed, glaring daggers. "Wouldn't do to get beaten by a girl, now would it?" She narrowed her eyes, centering her wand on him with a sudden steadiness that almost made him bring his own wand back up. "Maybe it would knock a little sense into you. Show you that I'm not as helpless as you seem to think me..."

Harry frowned, "I don't think you're helpless, Gi-"

"You don't, do you?" She cut her hand across the air, a motion which made her stumble slightly. "'I can't be with you, Ginny, because the big bad heir of Slytherin might try to hurt your tiny, frail little red head!'" Her voice was high, nasally, mocking, and Harry's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to retort, but a different voice cut him off.

"What's going on out here?"

Harry and Ginny both spun, to see Ron and Hermione peering from around the corner. "We were looking for you, Harry," said Ron, looking both embarrassed and confused. "Where'd you go?"

Harry began to answer, but Ginny cut him off with a glare in his direction. "Harry was just _leaving_, Ron. Seems I'm not the only one he thinks is helpless." Her mouth curled into a sneer. "Or maybe he just can't be bothered with anyone else."

Ron looked surprised, gazing at Ginny, then at Harry. "You were going to leave?" Hermione's mouth was pressed into a thin line, and her eyes widened, a look of reproachful fear in them.

"I don't think you lot are helpless!" Harry shouted furiously, both with Ginny's words and that his plans to leave quietly had fallen apart so completely. "It's just that... Look, Voldemort," Ron flinched and Hermione tutted, "isn't after any of you, he's after me! I don't want anyone to get _hurt_--"

Ginny's wand pointed at him again, "How many times do I have to say it?! I'm not some helpless _child_; I can handle myself as well as any of you!"

Ron, in the meantime, had also exploded, though his wand was still put away. "Hurt? What about you? We don't want you _hurt, _you great prat!"

Harry looked between them, then at Hermione, imploringly. Her eyes were shining, and she said, in a soft voice, when Ginny and Ron had run out of steam enough for her to be heard, "I can't believe you don't believe in us, Harry."

Somehow, that was worse than Ginny and Ron yelling at him. He gritted his teeth and ground out, closing his eyes, "It doesn't matter! I'm going, and I'm going alone!" He looked through reddening eyes. "You two deserve to be happy," he cried, motioned toward Ron and Hermione who were, indeed, holding hands as they stood squared off against him. "You deserve to spend time together, not to be traipsing off to who knows where and facing who knows what and possibly _dying _before you should!" He turned to Ginny, and his voice got quieter. "Ginny, I... I don't want you to have to... I don't want to lose you." He felt his eyes getting hot. "I couldn't bear it, if something happened to you because of me... Please, understand."

"I understand all right," Ginny hissed. "I understand that you'll take them, but you'll leave me behind, _again_. I understand that you'd rather be with a French strumpet like Gabrielle than with me!"

All conversation stopped. Ron made a choking sound, and Hermione whispered, slightly mortified, "Oh, Ginny..."

"What," Ginny growled and looked between the three of them, eyes narrowed. "What're you gawking about?! I saw it!"

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and said, as calmly as he could, "Ginny... Gabrielle is twelve... she's no threat to you, she never could be."

Instead of having a calming effect, his words had quite the opposite. Ginny's face crumpled, and she thrust her wand at him and screeched, "_Erumpo chiroptera!_

Nothing happened. It was as if, instead of the expected results, Ginny had instead stopped time. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were quite still, staring at the end of Ginny's wand, which, despite the fact that she had cast the Bat-Bogey Hex to great effect many times, hadn't even released a spark.

Ginny's lip trembled, and she began to pant. Shaking her wand experimentally twice more and still producing nothing, she looked at Harry, her face a mask of despair, and ran off, toward the woods and out of sight.

Hermione's voice was soft, as if she still could not believe it. "She shouldn't be alone."

"She'll be all right," Ron said, sounding bewildered. "She needs time, is all... still, that's never happened before..."

Harry stared at the spot where Ginny had gone out of sight, his mind working. In all the time he'd known her, Ginny had never failed to cast a spell that he'd ever seen.

His concern was interrupted by Ron's hand on Harry's shoulder. The grip was tight, and Harry could tell the only thing reigning in Ron's temper was what had just happened with Ginny. Hermione, beside him again, also regarded him with fierce eyes.

"Now let's get one thing straight," Ron growled in a voice that brooked no argument. "We told you we were coming with you, and damned if we won't. If you try to leave without us, we'll find you."

"But--"

Ron tightened his grip. "All that rubbish you said about not dying before we had time, Harry? Well, we feel the same about you! Don't you get it?" He squeezed harder, and even shook him a bit. "Quit acting like you're alone, because you're not, understand?"

Harry looked at Ron, and then at Hermione, whose eyes were narrowed, daring him to refute them. Finally, his shoulders slumped. "If you two die, don't come crying to me." He smiled, but his eyes ached and his heart trembled with terror.

Hermione reached forward and gripped his hand, smiling sadly. "I didn't get saved from a troll just to have you rid of me that easily."

Ron's face was still stony, but he had let go of Harry's shoulder, which had been going numb. "Think about what I said," he muttered, looking toward the trees where Ginny had run. Harry's eyes followed Ron's.

"Is she going to be OK? Should we look for her?" Hermione's voice was watery, but Ron shook his head.

"What could possibly go wrong here?"

* * *

A/N: It's FINALLY complete! Many thanks to my loverly pre-betas, Tzigane, Kimiko, and Oklina for encouragement, support, and chairs to the back of the head to get me moving.

Also, many thanks to Tanaxanth, who keeps me in line when all I want to do is push the story out and let you see it with commas willy nilly (yes, that's a word!). Thank you for your patience.

The incantation for the Bat-Bogey Hex is not mine. I borrowed it, with permission, from Starsea, who wrote/is writing a wonderful story called Watching for Wolves at the Sugar Quill.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was quiet on the way up the stairs. He barely muttered goodnight as Hermione ducked into Ginny's room, and was dimly aware of Ron guiding him up the stairs to the room they were sharing. It wasn't until he was in the bedroom, looking blearily at the Cannon's poster, that he realized that Ron was quite still behind him and not making moves to get ready for bed.

"We need to talk."

Harry turned, seeing Ron lean against the door with his arms crossed. His expression reminded him of Molly at her angriest. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils were flared and white as he breathed through his nose. The only familiar sight was the reddening of his ears, and that was never a good sign, either.

"Ron, please, can't you just drop it--" He'd barely got the words out when Ron pointed at him.

"No. I can't drop it. We need to _talk_, Harry."

Harry's temper, which had been very good for the last year, started to rise again, "I don't _want _to talk, Ron!"

"Then _I_ need to talk, and _you_ need to listen!" Ron's voice lowered, and he bit out, reluctantly, as if he were angry to have to say it, "You owe me that much."

Harry sat heavily on the bed and put his hands over his eyes, digging the heels of his palms into them. "All right," he said, exhausted suddenly. "All right, we'll talk. I'll listen, anyway."

Ron had obviously been gearing up for quite the battle, because he stopped short, his finger pointed at Harry and his lip set in a sneer. "Oh," he blinked and turned away, glaring at the wall, "OK."

There was a long pause, or perhaps time was stretching out like it seemed to for the entirety of his life. Harry was not about to ask Ron if he actually meant to go through with this talk. If Ron had decided to forego it, or that it was a bad idea, it was just as well.

But Ron's voice sounded, and it was thick, and angry, but subdued, for Ron.

"Ginny's been..." Harry winced inwardly, trying to steel himself against the ending of that sentence, "miserable."

Harry looked up, his anger rising again in his stomach and chest. "You honestly think I have been dancing for joy this whole time?!" It would have been a bellow, but he managed to remember that people were settling down to sleep.

Instead of raging at him, Ron simply raised a hand. "You said you would listen," he snapped. Harry, unused to this tactic from Ron, fell silent, glaring.

"She's off her food. She doesn't... she isn't..." Ron's words sounded like they were grating out of him, but he spoke on. "Remember what Tonks was like all last year? Ginny's starting to be like that. Today was the first time I saw her so much as run a brush through her hair."

Harry's heart sank. He bit his lip, despair washing over him. Ron reached over, tapped his shoulder, and Harry looked over at the second bed, seeing Ron had sat across from him and was looking him in the eye. Pleading warred with anger in the redhead's expression. "You need to undo whatever you did at the funeral, Harry. Please."

Harry opened his mouth, looked away, and whispered, "I… can't."

Ron exploded, as loudly as Harry had just a moment ago. "Why the bloody well not?!"

Harry struggled for his words, until finally he could only look up helplessly. "She'll get h-"

"Don't start that," snarled Ron, standing up to his full height now. "Don't start that 'she might get hurt' rubbish! She could get hurt anyway! No one's safe! But she shouldn't be miserable if she doesn't have to b--"

Harry cut across him louder than before. "She could get killed, all right? I don't want her to _die_ because of me!"

"It's not your fau-"

"IT BLOODY WELL IS MY FAULT!" He did not try to be quiet now and actually grabbed Ron's shirt in a desperate attempt to make him understand. "He killed Sirius to get to me! He had Dumbledore killed because he was protecting me! Cedric bloody died because he was in the way of his plan to GET ME!" He heard, with horror, his voice break and felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes. "I can't bear it, Ron!" His voice sounded pleading to his own ears, and he hated it, but nothing else, it seemed, was getting through. "I couldn't bear it if he took away someone else because he wanted me!"

The door creaked open, and Fred and George stood there. Their faces were pale, and Harry and Ron separated hastily.

"We were going to come up here to have a little chat with Harrykins about..." George started, but Fred didn't seem to be able to finish, as he was swallowing rapidly. "Well... things."

Harry moaned and turned away when Fred finally spoke. "You might want to keep it down before you wake the whole house..."

With that, the door closed, and both Harry and Ron looked at each other in momentary surprise. After a stunned moment, it seemed as if Ron would start in again, but instead he sat on his bed, heavily. "We need sleep," he rasped. "If you promise that you'll be here in the morning, so we can leave, _together_, then I'll drop this, for now."

"Fine," Harry sighed. He'd never get away alone now, and he was too exhausted to try it, at any rate. All he wanted was sleep and to put the whole night behind him.

It wasn't to be. His dreams were filled with Ginny, her smile and laugh when she caught him looking at her. Of her deep brown eyes as he gazed into them. Ginny furious, standing up to him for being a prat, or standing up for him when someone else called him a prat. He dreamed of Ginny's eyes, fierce and blazing as she raced above the pitch and again as she raced toward him after they'd won the Cup. Ginny's red face as he bent to kiss her. Ginny, her face similarly red, but her eyes oddly wet as she hissed angry accusations at Harry, then turned and stormed away, wobbling slightly, ears flaming now in embarrassment.

Ginny. Ginny, for whom there was so much desire and pain mixed together that Harry could hardly bear to see her.

He had to flee from it, he knew. There was too much danger in those eyes, that he would fail her and bring her to a place where she could get hurt or killed. It was too easy to want to pull her back to him, far too easy. As if responding to his desire to see something, anything but the face he wanted to stay with, his mind traveled as if down a long, dark tunnel with a dim light at the end. Down a hallway with multiple doors, dark and dim with odd, slithering shapes on the walls...

_He was weary. The death of his hated rival, the only one with the power to match his, should have made everything so much easier. Yet the protection over Potter still remained. Hogwarts was now more impenetrable than before, as if the old man's spirit somehow stood guard still. His encounter just that night, with protections around the school left him feeling diminished, forgetful. There was something important he needed to be doing, something that he couldn't concentrate on._

_He took his place and waited, and it seemed to be a long wait, an impatience he hadn't known for a long time seemed to course through his veins. That blasted warding spell! It was leaving him..._

_"Thank you, my Lord," a voice spoke, and he turned his head toward the entry, scowling in annoyance. Lucius Malfoy, multiple failure, had asked to meet him. It was why he was in the Malfoy home to begin with. The wards had addled him worse than he'd realized._

_The blonde man looked bedraggled, pale and drawn. He bowed low, stiffly, kneeling slowly to his Lord and speaking to the floor. "My Lord, my Master... thank you for agreeing to see me."_

_Rather that acknowledge the deference, Harry snarled. "You have failed me, Lucius. You are a bitter disappointment on more than one score. You know how I feel about failure."_

_Lucius Malfoy trembled, and he did not look up, could not look up. "I... my Lord, I bring... a gift, a small repayment, the daughter of a ministry official."_

_"And where is my 'gift', Lucius?"_

_The Death Eater rose, turning to gesture toward the entrance, and two large men dragged a smaller person between them. The girl's entire head was covered in a sack, and her robes, once fine, were torn. She hung limply, her head bowed, her feet offering no support._

_Lucius smiled, hesitantly, up at Harry, but the smile faded._

_"So far, Lucius, I am not impressed. I have no need to manipulate the Ministry of Magic. They work against themselves willingly enough."_

_Lucius took a step back. "My Lord..! The ministry, it... it seeks you still... her father... I... I had thought she could be... used." He swallowed nervously, pale eyes widening in mounting fear._

_"Whose daughter, Lucius?" He watched Malfoy's Adams apple bob, his eyes shift. He raised his wand. "I require an answer."_

_Malfoy muttered something, unintelligible. Raising the wand further made him start. "Arthur Weasley, my Lord!" His voice quavered._

_Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "A reminder of yet another setback… You still seek to satisfy your own vendettas instead of doing what is required? I would have thought you had learned your lesson on that score, Lucius." _

_"Potter! He... he has feelings for her!" Lucius' voice was high, terrified by now, and it caused a squirm of pleasure that was quickly gone at the thought of his once-trusted servant's incompetence. Still, if what Lucius' was saying was true..._

_"My Lord," came a silken voice from the left. Harry turned his head and watched Snape step from his place in the shadows, eyes on the girl, a calculating look on his face._

_Harry remained silent as Snape bowed low. "There is information that Lucius hasn't told you. Perhaps he doesn't even know. A pity he isn't better informed." He watched Severus cast a disdainful look at Lucius, one returned with frightened loathing. "Potter and this girl parted ways after your victory over Dumbledore."_

_"He lies!" Lucius was frantic. "My son was there, he _saw_ it with his own eyes!"_

_"Your son saw many things that turned out to be," Snape paused, seeming to be searching for the right words, "ineffective." He turned back to Harry, bowing his head in deference. "My Lord, the girl is nothing to Potter. If you tried to use her, he would likely think it was another trap, and not come. It would waste your valuable time."_

_Harry scowled. "You presume much, Severus. That is unwise, as you have recently been reminded."_

_Snape knelt, kissing the hem of Harry's robe. "Yes, my Lord, but, as always, my actions and suggestions are intended only for your benefit."_

_"My good and faithful servant." The sarcasm was, likely, not lost on Severus, yet he continued to speak as if there was none. "However, if you are correct, there is no reason to waste my time." He raised his wand, but again Snape interrupted._

_"You asked me, Lord, when you went to test the wards, to urge caution. I urge it now. You said the defenses could leave you dazed for a time. Is it not prudent to wait?"_

_Harry could feel his lip curling into a sneer, and felt his anger rise, and yet he forced himself to calm. Snape seemed to relax when the wand lowered. "Once again, Severus, you prove yourself either very brave or very stupid." He stood, walked to the girl hanging limp between the two large men, and snapped his fingers. "Crabbe, Goyle. Bring her closer. I want to see my... 'gift'"._

_Spidery fingers grasped and pulled the hood away from her head, and he raised his wand and muttered, "Ennervate." Tangled red hair obscured her face, until she jerked her head up, eyes squinting and watering in the sudden light._

_She gave a gasp when she recognized him, and tried to step back. The men on either side of her held her roughly. She soon stopped struggling, trembling in fear, her legs once again refusing to support her. She smiled, her lips trembling, her eyes mad._

_"Hello, Tom," she rasped, his hated name coming out as a sob. "The years have not been kind..."_

_Anger filled him, and he lifted his wand, snarling, "Crucio!"_

The girl's screams tore his ears, then lowered and faded and became the screams of a young man.

Harry fell off his bed, the man's screams halting abruptly when he hit the ground, and only then did he realize the screams were his.

Ron was peering at him from the edge of his bed, eyes wide and shining in the sliver of moonlight that filtered through his window. "Harry? Wha's goin' on?" Harry didn't answer, couldn't, as he screwed his eyes shut against the pain coming from his scar. He shuddered. Voldemort was angry, and he must still be hurting...

"GINNY!" Harry bolted up, slamming his shoulder into the door as he half dashed, half fell down the stairs toward Ginny's room. He could hear Ron calling him, other voices, confused and worried, calling out, asking what was happening. His mind was on one goal, and it loomed up faster, until he crashed into the door. Someone inside shrieked and he fumbled with the knob, thrusting the door open. He barely caught the red flash before he had to dodge aside. He was wandless, so he coiled to dive at the attacker, force them to tell him what they had done with Ginny--

"Harry?!" Hermione's trembling voice pierced the red haze in his mind a split second before arms grabbed him from behind, yanking him further away from Hermione. He began to struggle. "Ron, no, let him go! What's going on?"

"He's got her," Harry cried out, struggling desperately against Ron's hold. "He's got her, Merlin, he's got her, we've got to find her...!"

By now, there were others, all terrified out of sleep, all wondering what was happening. Harry could only struggle all the more, visions of what he'd seen mingling with Sirius' death, causing his heart to race violently. Finally, Mrs. Weasley grabbed Harry by the shoulders. "Harry! Harry, what is the meaning of this, are you mad?! Where's Ginny?! Harry!"

"I saw her! Ginny! She's... Voldemort has her!" The entire room seemed to freeze, and Harry slumped. "He has her, I saw it... I saw her look at him... I..." he shuddered. His brain, only now, was starting to process everything.

Mrs. Weasley's pale face was the image of shock, and she whirled, looking at the bed, expecting to see Ginny curled up, still asleep despite all the noise. Only Hermione, paled faced and still clutching her wand and blankets, stared back. "Ginny?!"

The room exploded into chaos. Ron let go of Harry, shouldering past his brothers and dashing down the stairs, calling Ginny's name.

"We'll check outside!"

"I'll search the house, I know where she hides!"

"I thought, after... she was so upset!"

"My baby, my baby, oh, Arthur!"

Harry was left alone, panting and rubbing at his scar, which was prickling. Then, with a suddenness that caused him to gasp, the pain stopped. He no longer had any idea what might be happening.

"Harry..." He turned, briefly wondering how he'd ended up on his hands and knees, and saw Hermione's pale face staring back at him. She swallowed, looking nervous. "Harry, what did you see?"

Without hesitation, he told her, the entire dream. Lucius, Snape, Ginny, everything in the most vivid detail he could muster. Harry's voice broke when he came to Voldemort's use of the Cruciatus Curse on Ginny. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth in horror. After a long pause, which was punctuated by the Weasleys' search, Hermione opened her mouth.

"H-Harry?" She wasn't looking at him; instead she was fiddling with something in her hands. "Please... please don't take this the wrong way, Harry..." She stopped and swallowed. Harry was only starting to get annoyed when she finally blurted, "Is it possible this is a trap?"

Harry opened his mouth to object. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his mouth was very dry. His mind was suddenly cast back to the battle at the ministry, and Hermione's words. 'Don't you think you've got a -- a bit of a -- a -- saving-people-thing?' Was this the same? She had been right, then. Could Voldemort have used the same trick twice?

Another thought caused Harry's stomach to clench, and then loosen horribly, as if he had been stretched and then let loose rapidly, leaving a dreadful hollowness inside him. _This,_ he thought in a panic, _was what I had feared all along. This is why I stopped seeing her in the first place..._

Harry forced his mind to the matter at hand, and took a shaky breath. "It's..." he looked up, to see Hermione nearly quailing at his gaze, and had the mad desire to laugh. "I don't _know_," he moaned, clenching his fists in frustration. "Snape was there. He... He said she was nothing to me. He... Voldemort almost killed her." _The greasy git,_ he raged to himself. _If I had only been better, been faster, he wouldn't have been a problem!_

Hermione's eyes were wide, or at least he thought they must be. Harry rubbed his face and stood, shakily. His glasses, he had to get his glasses. Hermione stood with him, her blurry face barely registering in his vision. "Harry..." She seemed as if she were torn, as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she started toward the door. "I'll get your glasses," she said, quietly.

"I know, Hermione." She stopped, and Harry went on. "I know it might be a trap."

"It might be, Harry," she said, but left without another comment.

Harry made his way downstairs, making his way to the couch. Ron's voice drifted to him from the left. "It was just what you were afraid of, wasn't it, Harry?"

Harry's throat tightened. He nodded, placing his hands over his eyes.

"Voldemort's holding my sister to try to get you to come to him, isn't he?" Ron's voice sounded hollow.

"I don't know."

"Y-You don't _know?!"_

Harry almost laughed. "It wasn't like with... with Sirius. It's more like... I can't explain it." He sighed.

"Maybe he's just trying to make it look different." Ron's voice sounded steadier. "If it was me, I'd be trying to convince you it _wasn't_ a trap. Make you believe it was real because it didn't look like the last time..."

Ron's words brought little comfort, so they sat in silence, joined after a time by Hermione, who handed Harry his glasses and wand, and then handed Ron his wand.

"What do we need these for?" Ron asked irritably.

Hermione sounded tired, but determined. "If someone took Ginny from here, he got past all the protections on the Burrow. If they could do it once, they could do it again. We'd best be ready."

Ron looked surprised, then nodded, and they sat in tense silence. Harry's mind kept replaying Ginny's scream over and over. The Cruciatus Curse was brutal, and powered by hatred. The Longbottoms had been driven insane by it. A sudden vision of Ginny, white haired and blank faced, shuffling to a bed in St. Mungo's spell damage ward shuddered into Harry's mind, and he stood, suddenly.

"I need some air."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then stood and followed Harry as he passed through the kitchen.

"Harry," Ron called, reaching for his shoulder. "Don't be daft!" He managed to stop Harry just before the door, turning him around. Hermione looked fearfully around Ron's shoulder, much as she did when he'd been trying to get to Sirius before.

"What are you on about, Ron?" Harry forced his voice to be calm. "I just need some air."

Both of them looked relieved at this, and didn't stop him as he opened the door, stepping out into the garden.

"I know it's hard, Harry," Ron was saying, "but it's got to be a trap. Right, mate?" He sounded as lost as Harry felt. "I don't want Ginny hurt or killed, but if it's a trap, we should wait to find out, right?" Ron continued, softer voiced, hopeful. "It's _got_ to be a trap..."

"Yeah," Harry said, turning on a spot three steps out the door, facing his friends. "It's got to be. And it's too bad, too."

"Why's that?" Ron asked, suspicion in his eyes.

"Because it worked." Without waiting for them to reply, he turned again, and Disapparated.

* * *

A/N: So now you see why chapter 4 took so long. It's because Chapter 5 kept jumping up to be written instead! Once again, thank you to Pre-Betas Tzigane, Oklina, and Kimiko for their encouragement and help, and to Tanaxanth for being a very patient beta and not letting me get into any trouble. Much. Now, excuse me, I have to keep Ron-in-my-head from killing Harry-in-my-head. 


	6. Chapter 6

Harry had no idea where he was going when he'd stepped into his apparition. He hadn't had a destination in mind, only a single deliberate, determined thought. _I have to get to Ginny._

This was, perhaps, why his apparition felt completely different than the others. He didn't feel as if he were being squeezed through a tube three sizes too small for him. Instead he felt as if he were being stretched to limitless dimensions, pulled like taffy until he was so thin he would separate and leave bits of him behind. It wasn't painful as much as alarming. The feeling of alarm began to grow as he realized he had been... wherever one goes when they apparate for far longer than he'd ever been before.

He felt warmth in his below his belt, and at first had the sudden thought that he'd done something embarrassing in his trousers, but his body began to contract toward the warmth and he put the thought out of his mind.

Before he understood what had happened, he was breathing air again, on knees that were once again skin and bone (and scraped from falling) and feeling hard floor beneath his hands. He wanted to sink to the ground, take a moment and let his wobbly limbs catch up, but a horrid thought had entered his mind a half a second later. What if he'd splinched himself? He forced his hands to search, but nothing seemed to be missing, right down to his eyebrows. The only thing that was left was the shaky, stretched out feeling, and he allowed himself the time to recover.

A painful flash of memory from the 'dream' he'd had that night drove him to push himself up along the wall, gritting his teeth against the image. He stood still, reaching for his wand, swallowing against a lingering dryness. Moody would have had kittens for all the stealth and vigilance Harry was neglecting. As it was, Harry was all too pleasantly surprised not to be in several bits across the Isles.

He listened, pressed against a wall with what seemed to be felt or velvet lining it, turning his head in the pitch dark room to listen for odd noises and determine where he was.

He became aware of a soft breathing, as if someone were asleep, slow and steady, and he approached it, hoping his eyes would adjust enough that he wouldn't have to cast a light to see by. Wherever this room was, it was cut off completely from any source of light. He could hear the breathing nearer to him now, which meant he must be getting closer, but who it was and what their intention would be if awakened was another matter.

He was moving very slowly, a skill learned from years of having an invisibility cloak. However, even an invisibility cloak couldn't compensate for unfamiliarity of terrain, and his feet, as if guided by magic, found a squeaky floorboard.

Harry stopped dead. The sound of breathing sped up, and a voice croaked dryly, "Who's there?" Harry had never been so silent. He willed himself not to breathe, hoped, desperately, that his heart's pounding was not as loud in the room as it sounded in his ears. The voice came again, as if through gritted teeth, "who's _there_," and Harry finally recognized it.

"Ginny?"

A sharp breath was taken in, and Harry flicked his wand, whispering "_Lumos." _Ginny was there, in the center of an otherwise bare room, squinting against the sudden light. Harry came closer and moved his wand so that the light showed his face more clearly. He took in the wild hair, the pale face that brought her freckles into stark relief, and knelt down to examine her closer.

He wasn't prepared for Ginny to lunge, snarling, against her bonds, and he fell backwards, losing his still lit wand on the floor. "Get away," Ginny was growling, struggling against her bonds. "I don't care whose face you take, I'm not telling you anything!" She struggled harder against her bonds, flinging her head back and forth, struggling with all her might to get loose of the chair.

"Ginny," Harry called, trying to remain quiet and still be heard over her increasingly loud cursing. "Ginny, it's me! It's Harry!"

"Bollocks!" She glared, positively shaking, angry tears streaming down her face. "Harry couldn't be here, he doesn't know where I am! He doesn't even know I'm gone!" Harry stared at her, reaching, slowly, for his wand, and Ginny narrowed her eyes. "I'm not saying anything, and when I get out of here—"

"You told Romilda Vane that I had a Hungarian Horntail tattooed on my chest!" It was a wild, desperate try, and Ginny scoffed.

"Romilda Vane, the Gossip of Gryffindor? Pull the other one!"

Harry grabbed his wand and stood, tenderly. He approached Ginny cautiously, casting about in his mind for something no one else would know. "Um, you use a potion your mother brews in your hair. It smells different for everyone."

Ginny didn't look convinced, but didn't respond. She glared at him with her jaw set. Then he hit on it.

"I saw a vision of Voldemort's snake attacking your dad. I was inside the snake. We overheard Moody talking about it with your folks, because everyone thought Voldemort was possessing me..."

At once Ginny's face went slack and she gawked up at him, no longer straining against the ropes that held her. "What are you _doing_ here," she whispered incredulously. "How did you know how to get here?"

Harry busied himself with untying her wrists, which were now scraped and bleeding from her struggles. Her ankles were the same. "I... I don't know."

"You don't _know_?!" Ginny was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head, and Harry in trying to find a suitable answer, decided that a second head might just have been sane in comparison.

"I saw..." He sighed, finally reaching around her to untie the rope across her chest. "I saw Malfoy bring you before Voldemort... only... I was Voldemort." Ginny shuddered against him. "I saw him... he was going to kill you, and he put the Cruciatus curse on you, and..." Harry swallowed. "I was just going to get away from the house and work out a plan to try to find you, but... I apparated and the next thing I knew, I was here."

Ginny gaped at him, her face paling. "S-so, you came here, all alone, to try to get me out? No one else..?" She seemed to think better of continuing, but the knowledge that they were quite alone hit Harry like a punch to the gut. Quite aside from the fact that everyone would likely be furious if they managed to beat the odds and get out of this situation alive, they were alone in a stronghold of the Dark Lord. Harry's face paled and his stomach clenched.

Ginny took his hand, closing her eyes in a valiant effort not to panic. Harry could only admire her strength of will when she opened them again with the fierce look that meant no one would stop her. However, the next words she spoke caused him to close his own eyes. "I don't have my wand.

"Right then," he said, still taking strength from their gaze. "Do you know what room we're in? What this place is?"

"I heard them talking," Ginny said in a low voice. "This is Malfoy Manor. One of them said that they keep all the stuff they need to get rid of here."

Harry looked at her. "They, who's they? And why were they talking in front of you?"

"Because I was pretending to be unconscious of course," she said with a lazy wave of her hand. Harry noticed, when it stopped, that her hand was shaking slightly, and reached to take it. Ginny looked at him and blushed, then cursed under her breath. "You know this is likely a trap, don't you Harry?"

"Of course it's a trap. You wouldn't be alive if they weren't planning on using you."

Harry had moved to the door and crouched next to it, peering through a keyhole to the other side. It was no use, as it was dark, and once again he found himself wishing that he had his invisibility cloak. Finally, he reached back, taking Ginny's hand and drawing her next to him. "We're going to have to find a way out of here," he whispered. She nodded, and he flicked his wand. "_Nox_."

Ginny held him back as he reached for the door. She was suddenly closer and whispered in his ear, sending shivers trilling down his spine. "Wait a few moments. Let your eyes get used to no light." She must have sensed the look on his face, because it was too far to dark for her to have seen it normally. "You learn quite a bit when you sneak out at night to teach yourself to fly, and from brothers like George and Fred."

Harry nodded, swallowing against the feeling of her hand against his, feeling the calluses that catching and throwing a quaffle had brought to her hand. It was odd, yet comfortable, knowing that many girls would have been horrified at having such hands. On Ginny however, it seemed natural, that her hands would be strong and shown signs of use. He sighed against his thoughts.

"Let's go."

He felt Ginny nod, and opened the door, slowly, wincing against the quiet creaking noise the hinges made. Ginny had been correct. With his eyes now more used to the dark, he found that he could see shapes and outlines decently well enough to tell a doorway from just a section of a wall, and to see when a corner was coming up. Remaining low, the two crept down the hall, ears and eyes alert to anyone who might come along.

A noise down the hall caused Ginny to stop Harry again, quickly pulling open a door and yanking Harry into it, almost causing him to cry out. The door closed silently, and Ginny and Harry held their breaths, listening, praying that whatever would pass hadn't heard the scuffling their frantic bid to hide had caused.

It appeared that they hadn't. Footsteps came slowly up the hallway, and a thin beam of light shone under the door. Whoever was attached to it, however, simply passed by, unaware of the teenagers willing their heartbeats to slow on the other side of the door.

Harry moved to open the door again, once the light had passed, but Ginny's hand on his arm made him pause as her breathing started to quicken. He had been about to ask what was wrong when a stifled giggle came from her mouth.

"Wands," she whispered, and Harry looked, seeing vague, boxy shapes stacked almost as high as the ceiling taking up half the room.

"Light your wand and cover it with your hand," she ordered frantically, and Harry obeyed warily. Ginny stood and walked to the boxes, slowly, almost reverently, and started searching through them.

"What was it he'd said," she muttered, picking up a box, looking at the label, and casting it aside. "What was it? What if it's not here?" She was talking to herself in a strained whisper, almost whimpering as box after box was stacked as quietly as her trembling hands could manage to her side. Harry began to worry that the Cruciatus curse had somehow been set on her too long as the whimpers grew frantic and more noticeable.

"Ginny?" Harry stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, your wand, it's-"

"Here, somewhere." She hadn't snapped, but the tone of her voice brooked no argument. "The wand I've been using isn't mine, it's Mum's Mum's from her school days. Mum took me before I started school, but couldn't afford Ollivander's price at the time. I'd always hoped that I could go back, maybe after school, and get the right one. Grandmum's wand always felt... sticky; as if the magic had to get past something when I used it." Her words were rushed and clipped as she set aside more wands, and then she hissed, panting. "Here!"

She pulled a wand out of its box and gave it a swish. Out poured whispers of music, and Ginny's eyes lit up in the muted glow from Harry's wand tip.

"Holly, dragon heartstring, 11 3/4 inches, just like he said..." She was fairly dancing, and Harry suddenly remembered her dismay at hearing that Ollivander's shop had been abandoned.

Harry took her hand, causing her to look at him with a start. "If we get out of this, and Ollivander turns up, I'll pay him myself. But let's go, OK?"

Ginny shook herself and nodded, her step more confident. The door opened, however, and two shapes silhouetted against the black opening, until two bright lights emitted from two more wands.

For a wild moment, Harry dared to hope that they'd been saved. However, after the spike of pain faded from the sudden light, he met the crazed stare of Lucius Malfoy, looking much the worse for wear, and Peter Pettigrew's ratty face staring at him in horrified shock.

"I told you, Wormtail," Malfoy gloated. "I told you I heard a scuffle. Marvelous, marvelous, Potter did as I thought he would. Had the Dark Lord only listened-"

Pettigrew said nothing, his free hand running in an agitated manner down his robes before coming up to wipe sweat from his upper lip.

"What ever shall I do with you, Potter," Malfoy continued. "The Dark Lord wants you for himself, it's true. But I, too, have suffered at your hands. Look at me, Potter." He spat as he spoke, and Harry's lip curled. "LOOK at me! Everything is taken away. My son, my wife, my home, used for, for castaways. Do you know why these wands are here, Potter?" Malfoy's hand waved wildly behind the two teenagers, and he began to pace, "Because none were right for the Dark Lord. None would respond as well as his own wand, if at all. He wanted to prevent what had happened at the cemetery... but no. Nott was punished accordingly, and they all ended here, where once my family lived and breathed and ate and talked."

Harry watched as Lucius Malfoy's face contorted, his entire body trembling in rage. He brought his wand up, but felt it jerk from his hand and into Pettigrew's. Harry glared, but the other wizard would not look at him.

"You have taken everything. I would have almost thanked you, Potter, had the Dark Lord not seen fit to release me from Azkaban. That capture would have at least spared me watching my honor fall in his sight, my son disgraced and-" He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "But what shall I do now? I owe you something for all my pain, and the Dark Lord only wanted you alive..."

His eyes fell on Ginny, who was trembling in fright to Harry's left, her lips quivering. "Yes, of course. I could prove I was right and hurt you all in one go. Yes, how poetic." Malfoy's grin widened and he giggled, causing Wormtail to step slightly back from him. The blond wizard raised his wand toward Ginny, who began to dive to the side, when Harry shouted, "NO!"

It was confusion, then. Wormtail brought his own wand up to point at Harry, and Harry thrust his hand forward, wildly calling out the first thing that came to mind. "_Expelliarmus!_"

Malfoy and Pettigrew flew backwards, shouting in shock as their wands flew from their hands, and Harry's flew to his. At the same time, a beam of red light slammed into Pettigrew's chest, changing his course and causing him to hit the wall with a dull thud.

Harry grabbed Ginny and ran between the two prone wizards, not bothering to douse his wand, and a sickly yellow bolt passed over his head to pulverize the plaster in the ceiling.

Ginny kept up, pulling her hand from Harry's to allow them both to sprint faster. They flung themselves down a narrow staircase and into a parlor, casting about for another doorway. There was one directly across from them, and they hurtled toward it, only to have it open when they were still feet from it.

A large, hulking man stepped in, and Harry recognized him from the fight on the tower at the end of term. They fired off quick curses, which were blocked as Malfoy stumbled into the room.

Harry and Ginny stood back to back, panting, wands raised at the two death eaters circling them, turning to keep them at bay. Then another set of doors opened and a lumpy looking wizard crashed through.

"Where's Wormtail?"

"Down," Malfoy gasped. "The girl stunned him."

Harry and Ginny turned, their wands flicking back and forth frantically, trying to point everywhere at once, and Lucius laughed. "No hope, Potter. You meet the Dark Lord at dawn and the girl..." He grinned, his lip twitching in mirth. "Wormtail told us what happened when the Dark Lord first came back, Potter, did you know? We know what his first command was that faithful night. Do you remember?"

Harry turned to Ginny, pale and trembling, and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, as Malfoy gloatingly continued from behind her. Ginny spun in his arms and held him as well.

"Me too."

"He said," while Malfoy laughed enjoying the next words, "'Kill the spare!'"

As Lucius began to speak the words of the Killing Curse, Harry made his decision. He shifted his weight, trying to spin Ginny out of the path of the curse to take it himself. At the same time, Ginny leapt up and tried to use her weight to stop him, knocking Harry's glasses askew.

And then the world went black.

A/N: OK. This is slightly longer (I think) than the other two because I didn't want to add another chapter to a story that's already lengthened beyond my expectations. I apologize if it seems rushed! I think there will be one more chapter and an epilogue after this, but, as my muse is flighty, don't hold me to it.

As always, thanks to Tanaxanth, without whom this would be a mess of hard to follow twisted paths in the hedge-maze of my mind.


	7. Chapter 7

_Harry Potter had faced Death many times in his young life, starting from soon after his first birthday. He had not, however, had the opportunity to think about what it might feel like to die._

_It was a somehow familiar feeling, he found, and not altogether pleasant. He could feel a sense of movement, and yet in another part of him, a sense of stillness; He could still feel Ginny in his arms, and his glasses against his face seemed to be stuck in perpetual falling, as if a part of them were stuck where they had been moved against his face._

_More annoying was the feeling in his stomach, as if a great hook were yanking him about from behind his navel._

_A flash of realization hit him, then, and he found himself thinking, amused, "Death is like a por-"_

They landed in a tangle of limbs, hitting the ground hard and tumbling. Harry heard his glasses hit the ground with a clack, and a groan before sound erupted above them; screams and yells of surprise, followed by an indistinct sobbing. Hands clutched at them, and Harry moved to fight them off, squinting against the sudden blurriness. Ginny was pulled away, and then a wild-haired someone had rammed into his chest, wheezing and sobbing. Harry managed to make out the words, "It worked, oh Merlin, it worked," before being barraged by a cacophony of questions.

He didn't bother to answer, looking frantically for Ginny as the sobbing person who must have been Hermione continued to clutch him. Without his glasses, the sea of red hair was impossible to discern, and for a wild, panicky moment he imagined further screams as the Weasleys looked down to see the pale, wide-eyed corpse of their only daughter.

"Ginny, what happened, are you all right?" Harry's turned so quickly that he got a crick in his neck. The only thing he could determine from the direction the voice had come from was a large indistinct blur with two redheaded figures melding together in it.

"My glasses," he gasped, and the arms around his chest fell away, stooping down to pick up his glasses. A wand was waved over them before they were pressed into his hand, and he put them on. The world cleared, and his first sight was Hermione, tears leaking down her cheek as she tried to suppress them.

He cast about and saw Ginny, alive and well. She was being held by her mother, and was staring at him with the same frightened, hard expression that must be on his face. His knees began to weaken, and strong arms grasped his elbows and guided him to the nearest seat. Harry's eyes never left Ginny's, and Ginny's left his only to tell her mother to loosen her grip, please.

"What happened?" Harry croaked, feeling the world beginning to spin. No answer was forthcoming for a time, until a voice that could have only belonged to Fred or George piped up from the back.

"Funny, we were going to ask you the same thing, mate!"

Harry blinked and looked over his shoulder, only to be met with the most furious glare from Ron. He started, and then looked forward, his eyes instinctively falling on Ginny. Her glare was as potent as Ron's. His heart thudded until he realized that she was looking, not at him, but over his shoulder.

Ron's voice piped up. "You disappeared, no word, not even so much as a 'see you soon,' and pop up clutching my _sister_ out of nowhere." The tone in Ron's voice struck Harry as nearly hilarious. As if he were more worried that Harry had taken advantage of Ginny than any danger they may have been in. If he hadn't looked so alarming, Harry might have laughed out loud.

"Where were you?" came a muted reply, and Harry turned again to see the pale, pinched face of Arthur Weasley staring at him, pleading for an explanation that would somehow make the night make sense.

"Malfoy Manor," was the quiet, almost shamed reply. Ginny was looking down, swallowing thickly, her mother's face pale over the top of her head. "They took me to Malfoy Manor."

"Malfoy Manor!" With a crash, Arthur had stood up; knocking over the wooden kitchen chair he'd taken. Harry jumped and looked around, locking eyes with Ginny, who had done the same. She gave a fleeting smile, both shy and embarrassed, ignoring Charlie restraining her father from flying out the door in a fit of righteous anger.

"How did you come to be there, Harry?" Charlie asked when his father had grudgingly settled. "How did you know where to find Ginny?"

It was Harry's turn to blush, and he shook his head, slowly at first, then rapidly as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. "Um... I don't know, exactly. I..." He swallowed his voice quieting. "I had only meant to... to get away." He closed his eyes. "And I ended up next to her." When his eyes opened, they sought out and found Ginny's once more. Her gaze seemed to bolster him, and the dizziness receded.

"You Apparated into Malfoy Manor," Arthur asked sounding awestruck. The rest of the family quieted down when Harry nodded slowly. Arthur seemed a loss for words. "How... however did you get out?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know... it... I was certain we were dead, but--"

"It was a Portkey. His Glasses. I--"

The quiet, almost hollow voice came from over his shoulder where Ron was standing, and Harry turned slowly to gape at Hermione. Ron's face matched Harry's almost exactly.

"You _knew_ about this," demanded Ron, angry and incredulous.

Hermione shook her head quickly. "I didn't... _know_, actually... I..." She looked up, apologizing to Harry with her eyes. "You know how he is, Ron! He wouldn't be able to wait; he'd have to do something! I tried to convince him not to, but I had to make sure he could get out!" Her voice quavered, and Harry could vaguely see her hands trembling. "He left before I could tell him... and I was so afraid it wouldn't work…" She sniffed thickly, chewing her lower lip.

"You made that Portkey?"

"I'd been... practicing. Just in case. But I... I had to use something Harry would take with him, so I had to... err... modify the spell..." She was wringing her hands now, distraught at the idea that she could have failed her friends. "I got the idea from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Someone'd said the cup was a Portkey, and if V-Voldemort had really wanted Harry, he wouldn't chance that someone else might win, would he? He must have found a way to make sure that only Harry would be transported if he touched it..." Hermione's voice got quieter and quieter, even as she spoke more quickly. "And I didn't have anyone to test it on but myself, and for all I knew I was just making a Portkey and I wasn't going to hand it to my mum to check if it worked, was I..?"

"Hermione, Portkeys are strictly regulated!" Arthur's own hands were shaking. "It's amazing that you could make one, but you could get into great trouble--"

"We're already in 'great trouble', Dad," Ron said in a low voice. "We can't trust the ministry anymore, can we? Hermione's got the right idea."

"We should hide."

Harry's voice startled even himself. He felt an urgent need to speak, to tell them what he'd begun to suspect and that Ron had roundabout confirmed. "They'll look for us here now. They know I'm alive, so we need to go somewhere safe."

Dizziness and nausea were starting to overwhelm him, and he sought out Ginny's eyes again. Somehow, seeing her safe, he was able to stave off the blackness that threatened to surround him.

"Where is safe, though?" sighed a voice.

"Headquarters," Charlie said at once, and Harry nodded. Of course, it was perfect.

"But Bill and Fleur," Molly's trembling voice cut through the rising din. "The Fidelius charm will keep her out, and with Dumbledore gone..." She sniffed.

It was as if the frustration broke something in Ron. "Why did you take off like that, Harry? Why did you go half off your knob and leave, without any backup or escape plan? What on earth were you thinking?!"

Harry's head swam, and he looked plaintively at Ron. "It was _Ginny_." With that, blackness enveloped him, and he felt himself falling away into oblivion.

* * *

"Is it at all possible that he just couldn't have done?" The voice came sounded as if it were coming to him underwater, hollow and muted, though somehow also loud. He flinched away from the noise, but the person kept speaking as if he hadn't moved.

"I mean, doesn't it make sense, if he was going to keep prisoners there, he'd put up some kind of Anti-Apparition ward?" Harry's interest was peaked, and the voice was clearing. Another voice, sounding sharper, clearer and decidedly bossier broke in.

"Of course not, Ron," the voice said exasperatedly. "He wouldn't have been able to Apparate _in_, would he?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, glumly.

"Montague did," Harry whispered, evidently loud enough to be heard as two separate people jumped on either side of him.

"Harry!" Hermione swam into his blurred vision, setting his glasses on his face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fi-" he started with his customary statement. A new voice, however, cut him off as if anticipating the remark.

"Don't lie, Harry." The new voice was both stern and soft, and made his heart leap. Harry turned to see Ginny, looking at him with an arched brow, half amused and half challenging. "You fainted dead away for no apparent reason. That doesn't seem very 'fine' to me."

Harry grimaced, opening his mouth automatically to retort. Ginny's other brow went up, and he deflated. "I'm not in any danger, then."

The smile on Ginny's face was worth the humility it cost for him to admit he was anything other than all right.

"Harry?" Ron pulled on his shoulder slightly, and then seemed to give up halfway through the gesture. "Hermione and I, we... I mean, she thinks maybe... but I just..."

Ginny rolled his eyes, and Harry found himself smiling again. Hermione broke in with an exasperated huff. "Why didn't you just Apparate out with Ginny, Harry?" she demanded with her usual strident force. Ron instantly protested, and Ginny flashed a look at Hermione that would have triggered another fight had Harry's hand on hers not distracted her. Harry knew, however, that she only shouted and snapped when she was worried. Or proven wrong, but that wasn't the case this time.

"I still think he couldn't have, Hermione," Ron was saying, ramping up to another of their brilliant arguments. "There had to be a ward, there just had to be."

"Ron, I've already said, if there was, he wouldn't have got inside in the first place!"

"Montague did," Harry repeated, and Hermione turned on him, opening her mouth in protest. Harry cut her off. "Malfoy said that's how he got out of the Vanishing Cabinet, by Apparating, and we know he wound up in a bathroom."

Hermione's mouth worked like a fish, the implications of the facts sinking in slowly and causing her to look more and more horrified. Harry looked down at the bedspread pooled at his lap. "The truth is, though, I didn't think of it." He heard both Ron and Hermione gasp, and sighed in response. "I hadn't expected to find Ginny like that, and when I recovered from that shock, she had pointed out that we were there alone. All I could think of was the Department of Mysteries..." He shuddered, and felt Ginny's fingers tighten on his own. "I guess I was just... stupid."

They sat in silence, only a small part of Harry's mind wishing that they'd at least disagreed that he was stupid. Ron, however, decided to at least let Harry off the hook. "Fred and George think you're brilliant, by the way."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he was grinning now, ear to ear, and Hermione had a similar, lesser smile on her face. "Mum had been absolutely livid when you'd left, had sworn between outs of crying that she'd really let you have it if you made it back alive."

"I believe her exact words were, 'He'll wish the Death Eaters got him when I'm done,'" Hermione grinned. Harry felt the blood go out of his face.

"Yeah, but when you said 'It was _Ginny'_ and then fainted like that, she just melted." Ron shook his head, chuckling. "Fred and George want tips."

"Mum wasn't the only one who melted," Ginny whispered in his ear, sending warm shivers down his back.

"Where are we now?" Harry asked.

"Headquarters," Hermione piped in immediately. "It really is the safest place, though we do have to guard the Floo in case Snape decides to rear his ugly head." Harry had never heard Hermione speak of a teacher, even Quirrell, in such a vindictive manner, but her eyes were blazing now.

"What about Fleur and Gabrielle?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, coming to a silent agreement. "It seems Dumbledore had one last trick up his sleeve," Ron said, his voice full of awe and sadness. "He'd visited Bill about a week before Summer Term, when Fleur happened to be there, and mentioned how they'd have to leave headquarters for a while. He said the address during that, which let Fleur in on the secret. She can see the place and come in."

Harry sat, stunned, and Hermione nodded. "That's how I felt. She's upset about Gabrielle, of course, because she can't see the place or come into it and without Dumbledore around..." Hermione trailed off, and for a few moments, silence reigned. "But there are other safe places, and Fleur's family will likely not be a target right off. Not if he's concentrating on you."

Harry nodded. At the moment, if he could, he would prefer that all Voldemort's attention were on himself and no one else. He knew it was too much to hope for, and was, frankly, scared out of his mind at being the focus for a known multiple killer. It was better to him, however, that no one else suffer. Then, like a shot, a realization jolted through him, bringing with it both a thrill of happiness and a jolt of nausea.

"The Dursleys."

"What?" Ron's brow furrowed, and Hermione blinked. "What about them? You don't have to go back, you know..."

"No, I don't have to go back." Harry closed his eyes, moaning and chuckling at the same time. "They have to come here."

He looked up to see three faces gaping at him. Ginny put a hand on his forehead. "Were you hit on the head, Harry? I didn't think a stunner hit you, but maybe just glanced-"

Harry laughed out loud, a sound which startled the other three. "No, no... but they won't be safe after my birthday any more than I will. When the protection wears off, that's the first place Voldemort will attack."

Hermione blanched, and Ron sputtered. Ginny swallowed thickly, nodding and whispering, "Of course." Hermione pulled her fingers away from her mouth.

"But Harry... Dumbledore is..." She winced, and then continued with a deep swallow. "No one can tell them the secret. It... it's gone with the Secret Keeper." Her voice broke and she leaned against Ron, hiding her face.

"They already know." Harry's own voice was subdued. "He pulled the same trick with them as he did with Fleur." A weight on his side distracted him, and he looked over to see Ginny leaning against him, her face hidden by her shining red hair.

"Ron? Hermione?" Both looked up, and Harry swallowed. "Can we be alone? Just for a bit?"

Ron looked wary. Hermione beamed suddenly, and pulled Ron up. "We'll be..." She flushed, and pulled Ron out without finishing her statement or listening to Ron's weak protests.

"They'll be snogging, I bet that's what she was going to say," quipped Ginny shyly, and Harry chuckled.

He looked at her, simply looked at her until she finally brought her eyes up to meet his. That same, now familiar, fierce look was in them, strengthening him, warming him, and he reached out to touch her face.

"I heard the prophecy," he started, and Ginny blinked, surprised. "Dumbledore had been there when it was made." He proceeded to tell her the prophecy, emphasizing the phrase that haunted him since he'd heard it, that neither he nor Voldemort could live while the other survived.

"That's what's been bothering you, isn't it?" Harry looked into Ginny's eyes, expecting to see fear, even to see her understanding why they couldn't be together. All he saw was concern.

"Of course," he said, distracted by her eyes and why she wasn't backing away in horror at this moment. "I've known for a year and a half now, but I just- after Dumbledore --" he swallowed, but forced himself to continue, "-- was killed, it's really struck home." His voice lowered. "I'm alone."

"You are not." Ginny's voice was just as low, but threaded through with enough anger and determination that the effect was like a shout. Her narrowed eyes, blazing now, made him wish she were shouting. A shouting Ginny was somehow easier to handle than this red-headed cobra.

"You are not alone, Harry Potter, and you should be ashamed to have even thought that."

"But there's no one left. There is no one between me and Voldemort to teach me how to deal with this!" He felt himself trembling slightly. "I'm not ready! Ginny, I'm not ready for this! I couldn't even remember to Apparate when I found you, let alone any strong magical spells that will miraculously destroy the worst Dark Lord since Grindelwald! Everyone expects me to work a miracle, but I don't know how to do that!"

Ginny took his hands and waited as Harry's breathing slowed. He looked at her, trying to will her to understand, to see why he was so alone. He would have paced had he been standing, but his legs still felt like jelly. Ginny was, however, being rather obstinate in not agreeing with him right away, and he felt as if some grand gesture was needed. He took her by the shoulder and looked her in the eye. "Ginny, I could _die_."

To his surprise, instead of squirming away from his intense gaze, her deep brown eyes met his. She put a hand on his cheek, and the subtlety of that gesture was somehow grander than his gripping her shoulder. "Harry. You could _live_."

Harry hadn't decided whether the very idea that he could actually live through this or the sheer faith that Ginny had in him was more shocking, and she didn't give him a chance to try to work it out. "You're right, Harry. There's no one in front of you. I understand that. But you're not _alone_. You have Ron, and Hermione, and Mum and the whole family. You have me as well," she added shyly. "Maybe this power you've got that Tom doesn't isn't just love. Maybe it's that you _can_ love, and you _are_ loved."

Harry's eyes must have shown his utter terror at losing another person. His mind, certainly, began to show him all the faces of all the people that meant so much to him that had died, all because of his connection to Voldemort. Beyond that, names in newspapers, headlines, all leading back to Voldemort and his increasing vendetta against the Wizarding world in general, and Harry in particular. Ginny's fingers tightened on his hands, and he found that he couldn't look away from her. "I know you're afraid to lose more people. Well, we're afraid, deathly afraid, to lose you, Harry. You're not alone. You'll never be alone, no matter how you push us away, because we love you, Harry." Her eyes were moist now, and he could feel his own prickling at the corners. "Tom will never have that."

Like an explosion, the thought that had plagued him since the funeral slammed into his conscious mind, revealing its hidden truth: He did, indeed, need his friends and family in this endeavor. He couldn't face Voldemort alone, because he didn't have to. Perhaps, at the final confrontation, it might be him and old Tom Riddle, but in the meantime, he would need, and, more importantly, would receive, help.

He smiled. It felt like it was the first time in a long time. His heart swelled, and he pulled Ginny to him and held on with all his might, surprising a laugh out of her.

"When did you get so smart, Weasley?"

Ginny answered with another laugh and nothing more.

* * *

"You _told_ her?"

Ron paced the study, brow furrowed. Harry stayed close to the couch. Having been at the receiving end of one punch, he had no desire to risk another, especially since the tall redhead's senses weren't dulled by out-of-date love potion.

"Dumbledore had said to tell my friends who had earned my trust. I think that three battles with adult wizards and standing up to Voldemort under threat of torture is pretty trustworthy, don't you?"

Hermione was already nodding, but Ron snorted. "So she's coming with us, then?"

Ginny, being the topic of conversation, bristled, but Harry's hand on her shoulder made sure that the most damaging thing sent Ron's way was the evilest of glares.

"It's her choice," Harry said, looking Ron in the eye. He kept his face and voice outwardly calm, but inside he was cursing the fact that he could only Apparate within the confines of the house, and not even into the foyer for easy access of escape. Ron was looking particularly murderous. "Not right away, at any rate. There is still too much for her to learn. She needs to know how to Apparate, and how to cast silently." He looked down at Ginny. "She'll know when she's ready."

"In the meantime, you'll have someone here who knows about the Horcruxes and can look into things quietly." Ginny's chin was set, and her eyes were pinning her brother to the wall upon which he'd stopped to lean.

"Starting with this," she said as she pulled the note out of her pocket and straightened it, showing off the initials on the bottom: R.A.B.

Ron stared at the note, then at each person in turn. Finally, he shrugged. "That's smart."

Ginny huffed, crossing her arms. "I hate it when you do that, Ron. I get all geared up for a row and you tip your king." Ron simply smiled enigmatically, distracted by the brilliant smile he was receiving in turn from Hermione.

While Ginny pouted, Hermione turned to Harry. "How are your aunt and uncle doing?"

"I don't know," Harry said bluntly. "Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia won't come out of their room, and all I've heard from Dudley was a stammered 'thank you' before he scurried back in there with them. I can only hope they're eating."

"Maybe you should have Kreacher make sure," Ron said with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Ron!" Hermione looked scandalized. "That would be cruel!"

"She's right. I couldn't do that to Kreacher."

It took a moment, but the entire room broke into laughter, which was compounded when a confused looking Kreacher walked in moments later.

Ginny approached Harry the evening before the three of them were to leave. He watched her, swallowed, and held up his hand before she could speak.

"I don't have a right to ask you to wait for me. I don't know... anything about how I feel or am supposed to feel or any of that. I haven't had very good role models." Ginny nodded, looking down, and he could see her face beginning to crumple before he lost it behind her hair. "But I'd like to learn." He stepped forward, tilting her chin up. "Maybe you can teach me, huh?"

Ginny gulped for breath, nodded, and threw her arms around him, holding him tightly, as if she could hold him there by sheer force of will. Before long, however, she let him go, wiping her eyes. Neither of them said goodbye as he walked out the door, and out into the world to carve, rather than simply face, his destiny.


	8. Epilogue

Smoke trailed from the battlefield, like fog on an early autumn morning, twisting from fires still burning, and those put after their energies and fuels were consumed. A pair of hazel eyes surveyed the pitted field, its charred divots ringed with flames of every color, the odd staggering combatant appearing in the haze of lingering smoke. The owner of the eyes turned down to his companion and said in a voice hoarse from shouting, "This looks like Hell."

The woman laughed, a short, surprised laugh that ended too soon. She, they, all the survivors on either side were still dealing with the shock of the sudden ending of the battle, the fleeing of one side into nothingness followed by the short attempt at pursuit. She clung to the taller man's arm, searching the dense cloud for a particular gait.

"There," came another voice, also hoarse, barely a whisper, but filled with a tense restraint. True to her word, a figure appeared, proceeding slowly. The trio watched, waited, hardly breathing, as if breath would give a chance for the hope in their hearts to pass from them into despair.

The shorter girl gave a strangled whisper as light glinted from the face of the man limping toward them, around his eyes. The face became clearer with each step, and still the three refused to move, for fear it was a trap. They gripped their wands in shaky hands, lifting them halfway, ready for anything.

The face became clearer, the glint showing to be from glasses, hair defining itself in messy and sometimes charred clumps. As the man approached, the three were joined by others; a tall, matronly woman whose usually severe hair now swirled around her head and neck, a shorter, motherly woman cradling her arm and leaning against a balding man whose glasses were shattered on one side; twins supporting a strong-looking man on either side; a blonde woman, eyes still blazing as she continued to look about, her male companion's hand the only thing keeping her from taking to the skies on iron-tinted wings.

All of them watched as the man limped to them, one arm a dead weight at his side, the other stemming a now weak flow of blood from his cheek. Finally he was close enough, the murk cleared enough, to show the feature they were looking for; a single, barely visible scar just right of center on his forehead, tracing out a lightning bolt.

"Is it over, Harry?" croaked the plump woman, pushing red hair from her eyes.

It wasn't the man who answered, but the girl at the woman's side. "It's over, Mum." She wiped her eyes, sniffling, brown eyes locked to green. "He can live now."

"We all can," sighed Harry Potter. "We can all live."

* * *

A/N: It's over. This has been a bit of a first for me. It's my first completed multi-part story ever. I've started quite a few, but this is the first one I've managed to finish. It's also the first story I've written completely from one person's perspective. That was a little hard for me, since I couldn't explain anything that Harry didn't know or experience. I have a LOT more appreciation for Ms. Rowling's efforts now!

I would once again like to thank my pre-betas, Laone, Kimiko, Tzigane, and Oklina, for their patience and support, and my Beta Tanaxanth for a lot of patience and a lot of good editing. And you, for all the comments. They were more encouraging than you could know!

If you're thinking that this ending is abrupt, well… it isn't meant to be. However, I never intended to write book 7. I was really just wanting to show how I wanted Harry and Ginny to work out. I hope it was as fun for you to read as it was for me to write :-)


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